Learning To Love You
by BittersweetHearts08
Summary: Isabelle only wanted to find her father, but now she's a prisoner in Jarryd's mansion. Can she teach him that not all people are bad and that some really do want the best for others? Can she help him learn what it is to love and be loved?
1. Of Trespassers and Innocence

**A/N: Here is my first original story. It is roughly based on Beauty and the Beast, but then again it totally isn't. I changed a lot of things about it including events and pretty much the foundation of Beauty and the Beast. I hope you like it. Please, please, please review when you are done! :)**

**This story takes place in Wisconsin… keep in mind I don't live there so anything that is wrong about description or anything that pertains to geography, disregard. Thank you.**

**Summary: Isabelle only wanted to find her father, but now she's a prisoner in Jarryd's mansion. Can she teach him that not all people are bad and that some really do want the best for others? Can she help him learn what it is to love and be loved?**

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Isabelle peered through the dense, wet, browning foliage looking for anything abnormal. _Where is he? Lord, I pray nothing has happened to him. _ Upon finding his car, the worry started seeping into her, corroding any faith that she had of his being alright. She walked on, determined to find some kind of lead to her father's whereabouts.

It started raining about fifteen minutes ago, and she was drenched from head to foot. The sun's absence started a chill that fed her fear. She had to find him. She grabbed the flashlight that she put in her purse and turned it on, splaying light on dark colors.

This was all her fault. She had told her dad that she had heard of a mansion that was in this forest that she had wanted to take a look at for its architectural purposes. She didn't actually mean for her father to go look for it.

As she trudged on, her feet squished against the leaves, making the forest seem more foreboding than before. She was about to turn back when her flashlight hit something shiny a few yards off. She ran towards it, heart thumping. A huge, wrought iron gate stood in front of her, unlocked and ajar. She looked beyond it, making out a silhouette of a mansion.

She tried to make out the architecture of the mansion in the dim light. She was an ancient architecture major at a University a few hours away from this small, country town; however, this building was a little more modern than what she was used to studying in school. She looked up to the rooftops and saw small stone creatures at the corners. But other than that, the house had no appearance of European influence and looked a mix between a huge plantation house and a Victorian mansion.

It was beautiful, in the creepy grandeur sort of way.

_Could he be in there? _She stepped through the gateway, cautiously, expecting something dangerous to be lurking in the shadows of the courtyard. The hinges creaked as if it they had decades of rust from nonuse.

This mansion was not normal. There was a distinct feeling with this place; an aura of depression, danger, sorrow, and anger.

The sun had almost completely left the sky, her eyes adjusting to the coming darkness. She walked across the shadow covered yard to the huge front doors up the walkway. She stood in front of the dark wooden doors for a moment, hesitating. _Why am I scared? It's just a house; spooky, yes, but still just a house. _

She knocked on the cherry wood doors. Nothing. The silence was so loud, so unnerving. She knocked again, opening the door this time.

"Hello? Is someone there? I'm looking for my father. Please, have you seen him?" Isabelle yelled through the darkness. Nothing stirred or made a sound, except the echoes of her own voice. Then she heard it. A muffled sound, coming from somewhere in the dark recesses of the mansion.

"Hello?" she said, a little more loudly, uncomfortable by the unusual noises and the uneasy eeriness. She took a step over the threshold, making a puddle of rainwater on the tiled floor. Nothing happened.

She sighed in relief. _This isn't some Indiana Jones movie, Isabelle. There are no booby traps. Be calm._ She reminded herself, taking deep breaths as she moved into the foyer. Her heart was racing as fast as a hummingbird's and she was sure if anyone were in the hall they would be able to hear it.

The foyer was gracefully furnished with ornate chairs, settees, and side tables, leading into a room with a big golden crown molding gracing yet another threshold, in front of her. She walked on, under the arch, gasping at the magnificence of the room beyond.

The room was not well lit, but it did not degrade its elegance. There were stairs going up from the floor and beyond it windows that displayed the full moon in all its glory, while the stairs split in two and made their way on either side of the Great Room, leading off into separate corridors. The grandeur of this mansion was something Isabelle had never witnessed before in her twenty-four years of life.

A raspy moan made its way to her ears.

There it was again, the muted voice in the background. _Did it come from the stairs going to the right, or to the left? _ She proceeded forward up the stairs toward the right corridor, pulse intensifying as she went from a steady walk to a jog, her wet hair slapping against her back and sticking to her face.

_Could he be here? Dad, what are you doing and where are you?_ She ran into a long hallway adorned with paintings and other art work, most of them a Gothic like art; a lot of gargoyles and haunted looking cathedrals at twilight. Despite the captivating architecture of the mansion, it was full of darks and grays.

A stifled cough and a hoarse voice made her continue forward towards the door at the end of the hall. A big, dark wooden door stood in front of her. She was almost sure it came from this room. She opened the door slowly, scared of what she might find. It was a sitting room, with couches against two of the walls and chairs placed throughout the rest of the area, all revolving around the fireplace that looked to have been long cold.

"Hello?" Isabelle called, knowing she heard someone.

Another cough answered her question as she jerked her head towards the direction of the noise. It came from inside another door a few down from the one she was looking in. It looked like a plain closet, until she opened it and found otherwise. It was small and not necessarily meant for storage. Creaky, wooden stairs climbed up from the entry up to what looked to be an attic door in the ceiling.

"Hello? Dad?" Isabelle said, raising her voice over the deep coughs.

"Isabelle?" Came the raspy, well known voice of her father beyond the locked attic door at the top of the stairs.

At hearing him she rocketed up the stairs and tried to push the attic door open but to no avail. "I'm here, Dad. Hold on; I'll get you out of here." She tried banging all her weight to get the door open, but as hard as she tried it did not help.

"Isabelle, no. You must leave now!" She was caught off guard by the urgency in his voice despite the splutter of coughs she heard after his sentence.

"Dad, I only just found you. I'm not going to leave you here-" She stopped; it hit her. The full meaning of what he was trying to say. "Dad, how did you get up here? Who did this?" Now fear was starting to gnaw at her conscience. _Who lives in this place?_

"Isabelle, I can't explain. You need to leave now before he finds you too." His voice was in a state of panic. Normally, he was a pretty even-tempered man; however, he was the exact opposite at the moment, which frightened her the most.

"He who, dad?" She said in a shaky voice, trying to keep it from cracking and giving away the utterly paralyzing fear that was coursing through her veins.

"I-" he began but was cut off abruptly by the door of the closet banging open. She turned towards the entry way at the base of the stairs in fright, looking at the tall, well-built silhouette.

"What are you doing here?" The voice asked in a low, menacing growl.

She squint her eyes, trying to make out his features in vain. _This was the _'he'_ Dad was referring to. _"Sir, please, my dad is locked up here. Please, let him go." Isabelle said, surprised her voice didn't break or shake in fear.

The silhouette took one large step into the closet to stand at the base of the steps. "That's the consequences of trespassing on my property and invading my privacy. Fortunately for you, I don't have another attic to stick you in. Now get out before I change my mind!" The man said harshly, pointing outside the closet, making his meaning clear.

"Isabelle, go now! Just leave me!" said her father from behind the attic door. She could hear the emotion in his voice; the sadness at telling her to leave him. Her strength left her, making her sit on the top step nearest her father's attic.

She ignored her father's wishes, but unconsciously let tears well in her eyes. "Please, sir, let both of us leave." Isabelle swallowed trying to keep the vicious tears at bay.

She could feel the air tingle with anger. "I suggest you leave now. You do not want to be the victim of my temper, woman!" He said in a tight voice, trying to keep the anger from seeping into his actions. But she couldn't help but flinch when she heard his inflection when he said '_woman_'.

Isabelle paused trying to make her brain form coherent thoughts. What could she do? _I'd rather die for him than let him be kept locked away here. _An idea sprung clearly to the front of her mind.

She stood up and walked a couple of steps down towards the man, adrenaline coursing through her giving her more assurance than she thought possible. "I have trespassed; take me in his place." Isabelle said calmly.

"No, Isabelle! You don't understand what you are getting yourself into!" Her father said his voice contorted in anguish.

A pregnant pause enveloped the room. She heard her father begin to cry softly behind the closed door. She tried to ignore it, tried to be strong for herself and for him.

"If I take his place, will you let him go?" Isabelle asked evenly, masking the pain in her heart.

She could not see the man's face. Only by the silence that met her questions, did she know he was considering her proposal, and considering it seriously.

"I will take you in his stead, but you have to promise me you will never leave this mansion and its grounds."

His voice was somewhat ominous, but for some reason she knew he did not mean for a week or two. She knew he meant for all time. Forever.

Isabelle walked down the rest of the steps calling on the ballerina grace she knew she had from all those dance lessons years ago. She stood on the last step, their heights unlevel. In the dark lighting she looked up to find his eyes. She could finally make out his features, but they were not the ugly ones she was expecting to encounter.

His eyes were ice blue, and his hair was a dark brown and its somewhat shaggy tendrils ended at the nape of his neck. There was one defining feature in his handsome face that caught her off guard: the scars. Three terrible looking scars ran down the right side of his face, starting above the eyebrow and parting around his eye. One jagged scar went below the eye, missing it entirely, only to meet up with the other two that had gone above that same eye and met at his jaw. It was too dark to see where else they journeyed to.

She was enraptured at his appearance. He had horrid looking scars, but those alone didn't belittle his handsome physical attributes. She tore her eyes away from the scars and looked into his beautiful ice blue eyes. "You have my word." She said in a small voice.

His arm came out and shoved her away, off the stairs. "Have it your way." He said, his voice dripping with animosity as he stomped up the stairs and gave a heavy push to the attic door, shattering the lock and hinges.

She gulped at the scene. _This is a guy you really don't want to mess with, Isabelle. What do you think you're doing?_ Her conscience came in at the worst opportune moments, always planting seeds of doubt in her mind. _I'm sure he's not all bad._

He shoved his arm in there and grabbed the collar of her father's shirt and dragged him down the stairs. _Scratch that. _She thought instantly at seeing his grasp on her father.

"Isabelle, no! You must leave!" Her father spluttered through the hold than man had on his shirt. He tried to grab for Isabelle's hands as he was dragged out of the closet and into the corridor. In her shocked state, she ran after them, wanting to free her father from the stranger.

She ran to stand in front of the stranger. "Wait!"

"Get out of my way!" He spit out, knocking her to the ground with the back of his hand. She fell to the ground unconscious. He ignored the fact that it didn't seem like he hit more than a fly. _She must be so light._ Then he remembered his own strength and how slim-figured she was.

"No, Isabelle! No!" Her father cried in worry. "If you lay another hand on my daughter, I swear you will pay for it! I will go to the authorities!" He threatened, anger enveloping his shock.

Jarryd looked down at the older man, his eyes penetrating his face. "If you want your daughter to live," he said dragging him through the foyer, "You won't say a word to anyone! I have my sources and will know exactly when and who you told if you decide to utter a single word about any of this."

Jarryd opened the front door and dragged him outside and down the steps toward the wrought iron gate some feet away.

"No, please, have mercy on my daughter! She has done nothing wrong. She is innocent!" Jarryd dropped him outside the tall fencing and locked the gates to keep him from coming back on his property.

Jarryd turned the full force of his ice blue eyes on the old man. "You've no need to worry about her anymore. If you value your life and hers as well and don't want to waist her sacrifice, you will leave, and leave quietly." He said threateningly. Jarryd turned abruptly away from the shocked, silent man at the locked gate and jogged back toward the mansion.

What would he do with the girl? His decision was easy about the old man, but he had a problem locking a woman up in an attic. Even though people might call him beastly in his ways, he could not- would not- do that to her.

He ran up the stairs three at a time towards the corridor. Was the girl still unconscious? Had he hurt her that bad? _Snap out of it, dude. She was the one that decided to take her daddy's place. _He took a few steps into the corridor, staring at the limp form on the middle of the burgundy carpet.

He walked closer, knelt down and grasped her arm, shaking her back to reality. He had more strength than he knew. As he moved his hand to wake her, her whole body shook with his forceful hand. Everything about this girl screamed vulnerable.

Her eyes fluttered open, an unfocused haze drifting across the surface.

"Get up." Jarryd said, albeit a little more rough than he meant, and lifted her to her feet.

She jerked back in realization of the situation, stumbling a little in the process, her eyes widening with fright. He took a step back from her and turned so she couldn't see the right side of his face. He didn't know how much of it she saw in the closet, he was putting his hope in the fact that it was dark. She hadn't uttered a sound if she had seen his scars, so maybe she hadn't.

"Follow me." He said gruffly. She took a couple of steps forward and staggered a bit, still lightheaded, but regained her equilibrium in the end. She followed him trying to keep up with his long strides.

"Where is my father?" She asked in a timid voice, afraid of the answer she might receive.

"He left if he knows what's good for him." Isabelle flinched at the acid in his tone.

"And where are you taking me?" She asked, trying to gain more confidence.

He grabbed her wrist making her wince in pain; again, everything about this girl yelled breakable in comparison to his strength. He faced her full on and looked into her deep brown eyes; they grew huge with fear. It was then he realized his mistake.

His massive scars. The feature that made him intolerable to look at. Of course, it frightened her. Her deep eyes seemed to change in a split second. What was it that replaced the fear? Sympathy? Pity?

He didn't want pity from anyone, least of all her! He turned away from her perusal, still holding onto her wrist, but loosening his hold so that it was not quite so uncomfortable.

Jarryd walked swiftly down the long corridor. "You will do everything I tell you to. No questions asked. You will not be allowed outside the mansion. You are not allowed on the grounds surrounding the mansion either, unless you have my permission. And you are not to go after your father. Do you understand me?" He asked, not facing her at all.

"Yes." She answered in a faint whisper. She breathed in deeply trying to calm herself only to have her lungs burn from the coughs.

By holding her wrist he felt the vibrations of her newly found cold. Her hair was still wet. Her clothing looked chilled with its dampness. He decided to ignore her appearance, though, and continue with what needed to be explained.

"Now onto house rules: meals are served promptly at 8 AM, noon, and 6 in the evening, but because of the distractions this mansion has seemed to attract, we will have dinner now, and you will eat with me." Jarryd said, showing her no loop holes in which to evade him.

Her breath was coming a little more raggedly now. His strides were just too long for her. She couldn't keep up the constant rate and stumbled over her own feet. Jarryd let go of her instinctively, surprised at her stumbling, she had looked so full of grace and composure when he had struck the bargain with her.

She fell to the floor and curled in the fetal position, more coughs shaking her body as tears streamed from her eyes to make a small wet spot on the carpet. He looked back in shock. Her face was as pale as the moon, sweat glistening on her brow, her breaths coming in quick gasps between coughs.

"Come on." Jarryd said, his emotions warring between impatience and worry.

She just coughed harder. She started to shake as the next wave of coughs ran over her body.

He knelt down beside her, watching her moment of pain and grief. But what was that ancient feeling inside his gut? Was he actually worried about someone else other than himself? Her body was shaking uncontrollably with the cold and coughs. She was sick; this was not a smoke screen. Her gasps of breath were now mingled with sobs and wheezes.

Her head felt full, she couldn't even make her muscles work right; she couldn't lift herself off of the ground. All she could see were shapes and shadows, no definition, no details; just blurs.

Jarryd put his hand gently under her cheek and then feeling how limp she was carefully moved so that he could lift her off the ground.

She was so light; so small in his arms; her body just barely enough weight to keep her from floating away. Even though her body was still trembling, she seemed as though she had gone unconscious once again. He looked down at her form in his arms. Her hair's scent was thick in his nose, the rain water soaked in her hair concentrating the fragrance.

He held her close and began walking back down the way he had come. Her face, wet from tears and taken over by exhaustion, was twisted in slumbering anguish and pain. He had seen it before: the moment before he slapped her away; the moment she knew she was never going to see her father again.

He opened the door to the left at the end of the hall. The room was fully furnished, a big, queen sized bed in the middle, a gloomy fire place, couches and chairs and dressers lining the rest of the wall space.

He walked toward the bed, holding her out from his body, preparing to lay her on the bed. He gasped as he felt cold air touch his chest, erasing the warmth she had unconsciously given him.

He laid her down on the sheets after pulling down the comforter, folding her arms around her body so that no limbs were outside the covers. He pulled the comforter over her small frame gently, trying not to disturb her sleeping form.

He stood back, looking at her face. It didn't display her sorrow. Her forehead was not crinkled in pain anymore; she looked more relaxed now. He took a few more steps towards the door and left the room silently.

He made his way down to the kitchen. He had told James to start dinner hours ago. He hoped they had just forgotten about cooking anything. He had somehow lost his appetite with the course of the evening's events.

The only thing he wanted was to have the warmth he had when he was holding the girl.

_What? Is this mousy girl getting to you already? Don't be a git!_

He ignored what his brain was trying to tell him.

What was her name? Her father had called for her so many times, but the name still eluded him.

His thoughts were interrupted by whispering voices coming through the doors to the kitchen. He pushed open the doors causing the low conversations to cease abruptly.

"Eva," Jarryd said, looking to a lady in her late 30's, with long golden hair. "There's a girl in the room at the end of the right corridor. She doesn't feel well. I want you to start a fire in that room. Make sure that it's at a comfortable temperature, and whatever you do, do not wake her."

"Yes, sir." Eva murmured, dipped her head and then turned out of the kitchen. He watched her leave, and then turned back to the rest of his employees. He didn't miss the secret eye movements when he had mentioned the girl.

James was the first one to speak, "Sir, what happened? We saw the man as he left," _More like dragged out, _"but who is the girl?" James was his most trusted servant; he was always kind and humble, but Jarryd always wondered why such a smart man like him would believe in God. The God who had supposedly created the whole universe; the God who supposedly had given his Son over to die. Jarryd couldn't believe that. What father would give up their Son, whom He loved, like that? He baulked at the idea. He wouldn't believe that.

"The girl will be staying with us from now on. She should be treated with respect and given anything she needs." Jarryd said while the finality of his statement echoed around him. "One of you, bring me tea to the sitting room in a few minutes." His head was killing him, and tea seemed to be the only remedy for him. He turned and left the kitchen towards the sitting room across the hall.

He sat down in his big chair that faced the fire in the big stone hearth.

_The girl._ What was he thinking, taking her as her father's replacement? He had not seen anyone from outside this mansion for almost 8 years; and the one time he did, it had to be a woman. Women were buckets of emotions; vulnerable and sneaky at the same time.

Surely, she would try to escape. No woman he had ever known kept her word. And with the promise she had just made about not going after her father, she wouldn't keep her word at all. He had to keep an eye on her and tell his staff the same.

"Sir, your tea." James carried in a tray with a cup of tea and a kettle of steaming liquid.

"Yes." Jarryd said in thanks. He took the cup James offered and took a small sip. "You and the rest of the staff are to keep a close watch over the girl. She promised never to leave, but I want to make sure that-"

"Sir, why did she agree to that in the first place?" James asked, clearly unnerved by the new turn of events.

Jarryd sighed in exhaustion. "The man you saw me dragging out was her father. She came looking for him, and by sheer luck, find him she did. I would not let him go. He trespassed. You know how I hate people poking around at the country hermit." _even so young a hermit._ "There is no one worth trusting in the world; well, except you, maybe. But, anyway, I locked him up. When she found him, she pleaded with me to take her as his replacement. I accepted and took her in his stead and told the man to leave and not say a word if he wanted his daughter to live."

"Why did you accept her offer?" Jarryd looked up at James. He had never seen him so uneasy. Of course, nothing like this had ever happened before either. Remembering his question, Jarryd looked away.

"Her pain." He said simply. It was etched so deeply on her face that he thought it would create scars. Scars like his; ugly and permanent. Her eyes were bright with tears, brimming over like a fountain. Her pain. It was so clear in his mind's eye. She would have died for her father if he had put that choice in front of her; of that, he was sure. He had never seen such love run so deep that it would replace the selfishness of one's own life.

James cleared his throat, breaking into his dismal reverie. Jarryd opened his eyes a little wider trying to concentrate on what James had been saying.

"I'm sorry, what?" Jarryd asked.

"I will tell the rest of them, sir. Are meals to be prepared for one more, then?" James asked as he turned to leave his employer to his solitude.

"Yes, she will be there when I eat." Jarryd said, taking a deep breath and exhaling.

"That's not a problem, sir. Do not worry yourself unnecessarily." James didn't want to trouble his master further. James knew his mind had a tendency to linger on dark thoughts; ones of depression and frustration. He did not want to add to it.

At James's absence, Jarryd's mind found its way back to the girl. What was she dreaming about right then? _Probably a nightmare._ He saw her reaction displayed in his thoughts when she had fully seen his face in the light. Big, round, brown eyes filled with…sympathy? Had she even seen him properly? Had she been so disoriented that her eyes couldn't make out the details of his features?

This whole situation was so sudden and unplanned for. First the man, which was unnerving anyway, but then his daughter had to come after him.

_That girl's not going to be worth it. I'll have to watch her every move so that she won't exploit me to everyone's ridicule once again. _

She was a beautiful girl. Why would she ever honor her word to a man who was so intolerable to look at?

He got up from his seat and walked over to the hearth. There was a long horizontal mirror that hung right above the ledge. He hated looking in the mirror at his horrid appearance. His dark brown hair was a mess; it needed a cut last month. He was wearing a dark grey shirt; his muscles in his arms and chest showed prominently through the thin fabric. He looked down towards his pants. The jeans were holey and well worn; fabric torn on the knees and a couple of random spots on his thighs. Then there was his face.

The scars were still light pink, even though it had happened years ago; however, his memory of how he got them were branded into his mind like it had happened yesterday. That was one memory he did not want to relive.

Surely, his face would scare her off. Not many girls with her beauty would stick around a fiend like him.

Her face. He could picture it so clearly. No scars. The perfection of innocence. He tried not to think about her. She would haunt him if he let her.

How did the rest of his staff respond to what had transpired? _They were probably surprised. _But they didn't have a background to keep secret. James said they saw the man as he brought him out. Jarryd didn't remember seeing anyone, but he was so focused on his anger, wondering how he was going to get himself out of the mess he created for himself.

The girl's limp form he had walked back upon after that scene floated back to the front of his memory. He had hit her, on the face, if he remembered right. No one deserved to hurt her and live.

Jarryd sighed heavily and made his way back to his chair. _I'm a monster._

Why had he done that? Another stupid choice.

"Sir?" A woman's voice spoke from behind him.

He spun around in his cushioned chair. It was only Eva. The glow of the fire accented her high cheek bones and golden hair. At first he had thought that it was _her_.

"Yes?" he asked eyebrows raised, his patience wearing thin for the day.

"The girl is sleeping, and I fixed the fire to what you specified, sir. But you said she had been feeling ill, so I checked her temperature. She seemed to be running a slight fever, so I left 2 Tylenol and a glass of water on her bed stand." She paused, "Sir? When I took her temperature I noticed she had a faint mark on her cheek; it looked like the beginning of a bruise. Do you know what could have happened?"

Eva always read between the lines in these types of situations. She was very observant. She knew more than she let on and he knew she was familiar with his little outbursts of temper. He had gotten better as of late, but what had consumed him that he would turn to physical abuse, was beyond his knowledge.

"I don't know, Eva." He lied, not making eye contact; instead he looked into the flames in the hearth. She would surely know if she looked into his eyes. It was always so hard keeping things from her. "You're dismissed for the evening, thank you."

She nodded sadly and left the room.

_Fever._ Was she that sick? He got up trying to keep his mind from the girl. No matter what he did, he could not quit thinking of her. He turned his attention away from the fire and left the sitting room. Pondering wasn't going to help him any.

He walked up the stairs and stopped where they went two opposite directions. The right: the girl. The left: cold, empty room.

The right. He jogged up the stairs towards her room. _I just want to make sure she's okay._

He opened the door at the end of the hall. A small fire was burning in the hearth, casting a glow on the room and the lump lying on the bed. She was just how he left her; her hair waving beautifully around her face. Her lips were parted a little, chapped from the elements, and through them he could hear her raspy intake of breath.

He looked at her face and saw it right there on her creamy skin: the faint red and blue mark running along her cheek bone. The only flaw in her face, and he had created it.

She suddenly stirred, shifting herself onto her side, facing the door. Facing him. However, she slept on, her legs curled up against her chest and her fists stuffed under her chin. _Like a small child._

"_She is innocent!"_

Her father's voice burned in his ears like salt on a wound. Innocent. Without blame. Like a child. But a child she was not. How old was she? _I don't know this woman at all. Not even her name and here I am watching her sleep! But I want to know more about her. _

Her unconscious coughing brought him back to the present. He was standing a few yards away from the bed watching her sleep. Wasn't that a bit stalker-ish?

If it was, he could care less. He walked toward her bed and looked down at her. He reached out and touched her cheek, where the bruise was becoming more prominent. Her skin was soft; just like what he thought it would feel like.

At realizing where his thoughts were trailing off to, he took his hand back and turned from the room quietly going to his bedroom instead of back to the sitting room. He was suddenly very tired, the events of the day finally out-weighing his wont to stay up and think.

He could deal with everything tomorrow. He could do nothing else today, so why worry? Anyways, he had a feeling he would need more sleep tonight, so that he could deal with whatever would happen tomorrow.

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**A/N: Okay so now you have the first chapter! Yey! I will let you know I have most of it written. I'm still developing the background character of Jarryd a bit, but I have a really good idea of how this ends and everything. So don't worry about random chapters and things not adding up in the end. This is a pretty planned out story. I worked on it at the end of summer '08 and throughout the fall semester, so in my opinion it's really good ;)**

**Please review! I really want your opinions and ideas! I love hearing guesses and what people think will happen, so don't be afraid just to send a guess my way. I love answering PM's and reviews, so if you really do have a question just let me know! :)**

**BTW tell me if the narration bothered you. I didn't really put a separation between different points of view. But if it really bothers you let me know.**


	2. Of New Clothes and Jerks

**A/N: Hey all! So I hope you liked the last chapter! I'm serious when I say I want to hear what you guys think about this! I want a mountain of reviews letting me know your opinions. Without further ado, here is chapter 2! ...Ha! That rhymed! ^_^**

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Isabelle woke up to rays of sunlight on her face. Her head was still somewhat muddled from the previous night's events, that she was surprised when she heard movement over by the fire place. She gave an inaudible gasp, caught slightly off guard by a stranger in her room. _Her_ room? This wasn't her room. Her room didn't have a fireplace, or a queen sized bed for that matter.

_Where am I?_

Suddenly, as if a tsunami of a thousand memories hit her, she remembered what had happened.

A huge mansion. Her father's sobs. An angry, yet handsome man. Burning lungs. Tears.

She looked around the room, things becoming clearer. The woman at the fireplace stood strait and turned around, her long blonde braid swishing in the air as she fluidly looked at Isabelle.

"Oh, I didn't know you were awake." The woman explained in surprise.

Isabelle didn't say anything; she only sat in confused silence as she tried to swallow her surroundings.

"Well, it's a good thing that you're up, my dear. Breakfast will be served in little over an hour." She smiled encouragingly at Isabelle. Her smile was warm and full of kindness, but Isabelle wasn't sure what to make of it. She was supposed to be a prisoner… right? If she was, then why was she being treated like a guest?

She just nodded back to the woman. She looked to be about 10 years older than her, which would make her roughly 34 years old. She was wearing a pair of loose blue jeans and a plain black shirt along with cute black flats.

"Oh, I bet you would like to take a bath wouldn't you? Freshen up a bit. Here, I'll start one up for you." She said as she bustled around the fire place to clean up whatever she had been doing and rushed into a room off to the left of the hearth.

Isabelle heard the sound of warm water running over marble. She sighed in relaxation for moment then realized it would be more relaxing if she were in that warm water. She got up out of bed quickly, and right as her feet hit the floor, she became immensely aware of all the bruises and how sore her body was.

It felt as though she had been kicked around like a soccer ball throughout the night. She looked at the bed stand; there was a glass of water and two pills, which looked a lot like Tylenol. Without thinking she took them and swallowed them down with water, hoping they would kick-in in the next thirty minutes or so.

Before she could ponder much more on her soreness, the maid –if that was what you wanted to call her- came bustling back in and appraised Isabelle from where she stood by the bedside.

"You didn't bring any clothes with you, dear. I plumb forgot. Here, why don't I go fetch you an outfit while you take your nice, hot bath? I think I know exactly where to find some."

Isabelle was left standing on the cold flooring in surprised silence. New clothes? How long had it been since she had even gone shopping? She wasn't a girl that was used to having cash lining her wallet; so, buying clothes wasn't something she did very often.

Right before she poked her head in the doorway to the bathroom, the woman came right back in with a bundle of clothes folded neatly in her arms.

"Here we are. I found a pair of jeans; they look to be about your size, and a cute blouse. I thought the blouse would compliment you figure." She said with a wink.

Finding her voice, Isabelle spoke, her voice raspy from use, or lack thereof. "Who do they belong to?"

The woman looked into her eyes for the briefest of moments, then dropped her eyes and began smoothing her fingers over the material to release the wrinkles. "They belong to no one. So don't you worry, no one will miss them."

Isabelle couldn't place it, but she knew there was a story behind the way she diverted her eyes. She believed the woman; there was just something she was not telling her. She decided to forgo the opportunity to ask and collected the clothes in her arms.

"Thank you." Isabelle whispered as she went through the door to the bathroom.

"Be sure you are in the dining hall at 8." She said before Isabelle could close the door.

As soon as she heard the woman's footsteps fade down the hall, she set the clothes on the vanity, stripped and stepped into the tub of steamy water. And, oh, did it feel good. She submerged herself fully in the soothing liquid and leaned her back against the end of the tub, sighing deeply. There seemed to be a floral scent that wafted from the water. What was it? Juniper? Lavender? Freesia? Whatever it was, it was calming and made her muscles loosen.

She looked around searching for shampoo and soap and found a basket of just that over the rim of the tub along with a fluffy, ivory towel. It had shampoo, conditioner, body wash, soap, and even lotion. She never liked buying all the extra beauty products like make-up and she even drew the line at conditioner and body wash, reminding herself shampoo and soap would do the same job just as well.

Since the bottles were there for her use, she decided to ignore her previous practicalities and try each bottle and pamper her skin. Even the soap was not as harsh as the brand her father used to buy.

_Dad._

She stopped lathering the soap on her arms.

"_Take me in his place!"_

"_No, Isabelle!"_

She remembered the sadness in his voice; the painful sound of his crying out her name. She had always known him as a strong man; a man who never begged for anything, yet he begged her not to take his place.

She shook her head, trying to make the troubling memories go away. She finished washing herself and stepped out of the tub, taking the towel to dry the droplets of water that clung to her body. She walked over to where she had set the clothes out on the vanity and began dressing. Along with the blouse and jeans, was a bra and underwear.

_Thank the Lord!_

She looked quickly at the sizes and was pleasantly surprised at seeing they were her exact size. Again, the sense of apprehension built within her.

_Who owned these clothes? Or who _used _to own these clothes?_

She decided not to think of it. If it was important, she would find out soon enough. She took the jeans and slipped them on along with the cute blouse, it was a dull shade of periwinkle and, like the woman said, flattered her very elegantly, accentuating her thin waist.

She looked up into the mirror that was posted on the wall over her vanity. She looked at her face. Something was different, but she couldn't seem to put her finger on it. She was normally pale, so it wasn't that. She lifted her hand and searched her skin, flinching when the tips of her fingers grazed a soft spot; faint blue bruise on her left cheek. Where had she gotten that?

_Bum! Bum!_

"Miss, are you finished?" The woman called from the other side of the bathroom door.

"Come in." Isabelle called.

The door creaked open cautiously to reveal the woman that had previously helped her.

"Oh, good; you look wonderful, dear!" she said, another smile gracing her face. Normally, she didn't like endearments, but the way this woman said dear was not offending in the least; it almost had a paternal connotation to it and made Isabelle feel comfortable.

"I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself properly. My name is Isabelle Richardson." She held out her hand.

The woman smiled even brighter –if that were possible- and took her hand in between both of hers. "My name is Eva. It's a pleasure to meet you, Isabelle."

She gave a genuine smile back to the woman and, suddenly remembering where she had to be, asked, "What time did you say I needed to be at breakfast?"

"Oh, you still have another fifteen minutes. In the meantime let's see what I can do about your hair." Eva looked like a little girl who had just discovered her mother's make-up for the first time. Isabelle could see the excited look that sparkled in her eyes and decided to indulge her.

"May I?" Eva asked hesitantly.

"Um, sure." Isabelle agreed not wanting to ruin her fun.

Eva showed her to a seat in front of the vanity area. She looked at the wood of the vanity for the first time. It was antique; a beautiful, refurnished antique. Upon looking at the striking piece, she thought back to the other pieces of furniture in her room; they too were priceless antiques. The subtle grandeur made her feel out of place, yet unexpectedly comfortable.

She sighed softly as Eva ran her fingers through her hair unknotting the small tangles. Isabelle closed her eyes in relaxation at her ministrations. She hadn't known how long she sat with her eyes closed until Eva spoke up.

"There now, doesn't that look beautiful?" Eva asked, admiring her own work.

Isabelle opened her eyes and gave a small gasp of pleasure at the reflection she saw in the mirror. Her hair was piled on top of her head, still looking a tad damp, but none-the-less beautiful.

Instinctively, her hand flew to the back of her head to feel her hair. There were a few bobby pins holding up the wavy chestnut tresses, letting them spill over at a point.

She looked up to Eva in the mirror. "Thank you. It's beautiful." She said her hand still feeling around, admiring her skill.

"Oh, tosh; it's nothing. Now come along, or you'll be late for breakfast."

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jarryd was staring into the flames of the hearth in the sitting room, the bags under his eyes relaying his insomnia. He had gone to bed late, giving him only a few restless hours of sleep, only to wake up still tired but not able to go back to studying the back of his eyelids. His mind had been jumping from one thing to the next and then to the girl, much like it was this morning.

The ding of the clock on the mantel chimed 8AM, signaling the breaking of the fast. He stood up twisting his back, getting all the kinks the fitful sleep had created. Eva had come down earlier to let him know that the girl was up and getting ready for the day; she said she would even be ready to join him for breakfast.

Fear suddenly struck his nerves, making his blood run a little faster. What would he say to her? _"Sorry about your dad and the fact that I hit you last night, but you're my prisoner and I'm not going to let you leave?" _Awkward.

He walked the few feet to the door entering the foyer. He sighed heavily.

_Well, whatever happens happens. There's nothing you can do about it._

He turned the ornate, brass knob and walked into the foyer, stopping when he caught movement in his peripheral vision.

Eva and the girl were walking down the stairs. She was wearing a blue shirt that looked familiar to him, but he couldn't place it; however, she did look rather stunning in it.

"Good morning, sir." Eva said cheekily when she saw him.

"Morning, Eva." He said cordially, not looking at her but at the woman beside her, for clearly she was not the girl he had referred to in his mind; she was a woman with the grace of a lady. Her head shot up at their greeting. Her eyes were big and her frame rigid.

Eva, seeing her discomfort, leaned over to whisper something in her ear and took her hand encouragingly, leading her gently down the last few steps.

"Sir, this is Isabelle Richardson." Eva said, giving him a cautionary look.

He turned his face towards her. Isabelle. Everything started piecing itself back together. Isabelle. The name suited her.

"Isabelle, I'm Jarryd." He said in a rich voice, holding out his hand. Her face paled; she literally seemed 'frightened stiff'. Eva nudged her arm, making Isabelle react instinctively. She lifted her hand and he grasped it gently in his strong one. Her hand was cold and shaky. Apparently she was very scared of him -maybe it was because of the scars- something he wished were not true at all. He let her hand drift gently down to her side as he prepared to speak.

"Breakfast will be served in the dining room, over through those doors." He lifted his arm toward the dark double doors that lead into the room next to the kitchen. His eyes found their way from where he had gestured back to her face. In that small moment, she had seemed to compose her face and mask the trembling in her eyes. She looked more confident now, not high and mighty, but assured and secure.

"Why don't you two go there, while I go help in the kitchen?" Eva said, artfully transferring Isabelle's hand to the crook of Jarryd's arm as she scurried off to the kitchen. Jarryd and Isabelle just stood there a moment watching the woman's departure.

Jarryd cleared his throat, abruptly breaking the spell on Isabelle and made her jerk her hand back from his arm. That wasn't his immediate intention, but decided there was nothing he could do about it anymore. "Come with me." He said and then winced at his dark tone.

He preceded her in to the dining hall to the left of the stair case they had been previously standing in front of. "This is the dining room, where we will be taking all our meals."

The room had a long table and behind it was a beautiful, scenic view of the forest provided by ornately curtained windows. Isabelle looked around, her eyes roaming and soaking in each detail. She hadn't been able to wrap her mind around the new environment, but now it was starting to sink in.

It was well furnished, just like the rest of the house, with a cherry table set, clearly antique. The walls that were not covered with windows were painted a deep red, accenting the white crown molding around the ceiling and the gold curtains draped around the view outside.

"Go ahead and have a seat. Breakfast should be coming out soon." Jarryd said, his voice resounding throughout the room. His voice had a certain strength to it; not scary or frightening, but strong and capable. She looked over to him and noticed he had already seated himself while she stood just inside the doorway admiring the spacious room.

She felt the blood rush to her cheeks in embarrassment as she took a seat on the edge closest to the left corner; not the head. He took that seat.

She looked over to him; evaluating him as he looked out the windows. He was a well muscled man; very strong, but not an all-brawn-no-brain kind of man. The left side of his face, though, contrasted sharply with the pink scars that ran down the right side.

_What happened? _What had caused his face to be marred so?

While he looked out the window to his left he could feel her perusal of him. Studying him. Evaluating. Was she already trying to judge him?

Indignation rose up in him like bile, souring everything it touched; like poison. He turned to stare back at her, giving her the full force of his gaze. He looked straight into her eyes and caught the look of her vulnerability. He looked down at her blouse. Everything clicked suddenly. He knew where that shirt had come from.

His blue eyes made her feel like she had touched ice. They pierced her so suddenly she had not been ready for it. Once he dropped his eyes to her clothes she saw his eyes swiftly change from cold ice to a furious fire. She was caught off guard by the anger she felt radiating from him. She leaned back until her back hit the chair, eyes still in a war of pride to see who would drop their gaze first.

She didn't know what she did to personally offend him so. She didn't even know anything about him –except for the fact that his name was Jarryd and had thrown her father out without letting him say goodbye to her_. _

_How am I going to live here with this man I know nothing about and who loves to hide his thoughts behind his freakin icy demeanor! _

She was frustrated now. She didn't know what to do because apparently she offended him just by her silence. She couldn't hold his gaze; she dropped her eyes to her empty place setting.

She tried to distract herself with concentrating on the details of her plate and drinking glass. The plate had a gold trimming around the edge and was clean in its simplicity. Her glass looked beautiful also in its simple qualities; the one adornment: a single rose etched into the face of the glass.

A door behind her swung open, making her jump from her silent appraisal and look at the people filing in the dining room. Eva and another man came through the door carrying food and drink. They both came forward; Eva, giving her a wink of encouragement, set the large tray on the table and raised the lid to reveal breakfast meats, eggs and fruit, and the man, who was somewhat tall (of course, not as tall as Jarryd) with salt and pepper hair, filled both their glasses with what looked to be apple juice.

She let her senses revel in the yummy scents that assaulted her nose, her stomach rumbling uncomfortably in return. Jarryd looked over to her in expectancy as she looked back blankly. "After you." He let out through what she thought sounded like clenched teeth.

_Chivalry, even through anger. Interesting, _she thought.

She took the silver tongs in her hand to catch a few pieces of cut meat and a bit of eggs. She held out the cool handle of the tongs to him after placing what she wanted on her plate. He took them from her gently, grazing the heel of her palm, leaving a trail of fire on her skin. She immediately looked back to the tray, trying to forget the touch, and took a few slices of apple and a few grapes, placing them on the farthest place from the meat and eggs on her plate.

She looked at the meal before her. She could be in a much worse predicament. She might not have her earthly father around, but her Heavenly Father sure was. She closed her eyes and said a prayer, asking the blessing over the food she and Jarryd were about to consume. She also sent up a quick prayer of help. She wanted so badly for Jarryd to at least be nice to her and not so cold.

Jarryd just stared at her. Another crazy girl who believed in the God that sent His Son to die. He rolled his eyes and helped himself to some eggs and fruit, ignoring her completely as if he had not noticed her at all.

Isabelle opened her eyes after her prayer. She knew Jarryd had been studying her. Apparently, he wasn't a believer.

_What else could go wrong?_

_No, be positive, Isabelle. That's the only way you'll be able to get through this._

She reached out and took her fork in her hand, lifting some eggs to her mouth; however, she somehow had lost her appetite despite the hungry rumbles in her stomach that protested.

_Lord, give me strength. There are so many new things that I am experiencing and feeling; I don't know how to react to them._

She ate a few more bites still praying silently in her head. The Lord would provide, just like he provided this meal.

"Do you remember anything I told you last night?" Jarryd said, effectively breaking the silence with an upset edge to his voice.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember much from last night," Isabelle answered after swallowing the bite he had caught her with.

He gave a small exhale and summed up the rules he had told her of last night. For some reason, they didn't surprise her one bit. Of course, he would want to keep her under constant surveillance. He didn't want her running off. But on top of all the rules she knew she wouldn't leave. She had given him a promise. She didn't like not keeping promises, especially ones that concerned the welfare of her father.

"I gave you my word. I will do as you ask." Isabelle said with conviction, not wanting to give him any reason to doubt her words.

_An honest woman. Good._ That might turn in his favor.

"The mansion is your home now so you can go anywhere inside the walls except my room. It's the door at the end of the left corridor. You cannot go in there but you are allowed to go in any of the other rooms in that hall." Jarryd said, giving her explicit boundaries outside and within the mansion.

She just nodded her head in consent. Was she normally a quiet person? A woman of few words?

_She said quite a few words last night._

_But look at the situation._

_Admit it; you just want to hear her voice again._

_No, I don't. If she's quiet that will make my life much, much easier._

_Just stop._

He sighed. He hated it when he questioned himself. It always seemed like one side was always trying to win him over, but his true self was just a mix of confusion.

He looked down at his partly empty plate. He wasn't hungry anymore maybe he would go to the library and work on some paper work. He normally did paper work in the library instead of his office only because he loved the smell of books. He did not especially like reading books –he thought it was more or less a waste of time- but he loved the smell of them. Yes, the library would be a very relaxing place.

He scratched his chair across the marble, standing up to his full height. "I have some work to do." He said simply and left her to an empty dining room as he fled the room to the solitude of the library.

She looked after him as he left. There she was left behind in an empty dining room, in a foreign mansion, and was friendless with no outside connections. Yep, that about summed up her situation.

She took a few more bites of the food left on her plate and a sip from her crystal glass. What right did he have to treat her as if she was just someone to be thrown around? She had feelings! She didn't want to be ignored. Why had he been so angry with her? She had barely said enough to make him irritated let alone angry.

Deciding that, she got up abruptly from her seat and rushed out of the room hoping to catch Jarryd before he could disappear into the monstrosity of the house. She threw back the door and looked up to the stairs. She saw Jarryd disappear into the left corridor. She gave a loud sigh and ran up the stairs after him.

The left corridor was a lot like the right one, not much different, but she didn't pay much attention to the similarities of differences because there he was about to enter a room off to the right of the hall.

"Jarryd," She said getting his attention before he went inside.

He turned around; a look of surprise on his face in hearing that he was not alone.

"Yes?" He said evenly, which made her anger bloom even more.

"What have I done to offend you?" Isabelle asked, very irritated.

"Excuse me?" He was confused.

_You know exactly what I'm talking about! Don't play dumb!_

"What. Have. I. Done. To. Offend. You?" She said, enunciating each word, hoping to get across the message clearly.

He was silent, eyes looking back at her, vacant and staring.

"You were angry at breakfast. I want to know what I did to make you so upset! I think I have a right to know!" Her anger was running unwatched through her veins.

"I have things to do, Isabelle." He said turning back towards the door.

"No!" She burst out, grabbing him by the arm making him swing around to face her once again.

"I want to know what I did! You gave me a glacial stare at breakfast and you were pretty much angry with me the rest of the time. You looked at my clothes like I was wear-"

"My sister's clothes." He said almost inaudibly. But she heard him plain as day.

She stopped suddenly, letting her anger drain away at his words. "What?"

"You're wearing my sister's old clothes. It's fine. Really. Now, is there anything else you want?" He was calm, which was so uncharacteristically like him, so Isabelle thought. He was leaning back on the doorjamb, seeming ready for any other attack she would throw his way; however, she found that she was speechless.

She just shook her head, still surprised. Eva had said they belonged to no one. Did she lie to her? No, Jarryd had said, 'his sister's _old_ clothes.' Where was she then? And still, why was he so angry at breakfast?

"Then excuse me; I have work to do." He said politely in his eerie, calm voice, disappearing into the room.

She closed her eyes. _Way to go, Isabelle._ She thought sourly as she turned to go back to her room. She had just made herself look like jerk. A big jerk.

_Way to go, Isabelle._

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**A/N: So Isabelle just made a huge blunder. Hhhhmmm what will happen next? **

**I know for some of you, you like reading stories that are very fast paced (even me to a certain extent) and the main characters get together in the first or second chapter. Well I will say that this is a slower paced story. There will be times in each chapter that they will be together and will add to their relationship but it won't be a huge change until, eh, awhile. It depends on how long each chapter is.**

**Anyways, I hope you guys like this story! And I love feedback so PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!!**

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**These people are from both FictionPress and Fanfiction, just to clarify.**

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	3. Of Books and Apologies

**A/N: Okay I hope you enjoyed the last chapter as much as I did even though Isabelle made a huge jerk of herself. Read on peoples!**

**____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

Jarryd sat heavily in his big, stuffed chair at his desk. Why had Isabelle needed to wear his sister's clothes?

_Maybe, because you made her stay in your stupid house without letting her go back for any of her things._

_That's beside the point._

_Point or no point, it's still your own fault; she had nothing to do with it, so it would only be right for you to stop blaming her for all your problems._

He knew his anger had been ill-founded at breakfast, but it was like his frustration had resurfaced because of memories, and she was the only one he could blame it on. Things he should blame his father for.

_Dad was the one that made Ashlyn run away, not Isabelle._

He knew that, but he didn't want to think about Ashlyn and his past, or the fact that he was in the wrong.

He looked down at the papers that were in organized stacks. He had been lying to Isabelle when he had said he had work to do. He had actually finished it all yesterday afternoon right before he had found the older man snooping around his house.

Apparently, he had only been there but a few minutes because none of the employees had run into him. They would have told him immediately if something were amiss.

His mind went to his most recent conversation. Her fire and spontaneous actions made him grin, despite himself. However,he understood Isabelle's confusion. She was more or less his prisoner. A person, who normally was not confined to the walls of a house, was now told that she could not leave, could not go outside, and could not see her father.

This only made him feel even more horrible.

Well, he would be able to give her a comfortable living.

_What kind of living would that be, if she can't even see her own family?_

_Shut up._

He could buy her new clothes, food and shelter would be provided for her, and whatever else she needed; she wouldn't have to worry about a thing. He had more than enough money to support her, especially after the courts had left him the head of his father's estate.

A knock sounded on the library door.

"Come in." He said exhaustedly.

Eva appeared from behind the door and let herself in, closing the door firmly behind her. She looked about ready to give someone a whipping. "Jarryd Sanders, what did you say to that poor girl? She is in her room crying her eyes out!"

"I didn't say anything." He said, the lie coming lithely off his tongue. He normally could lie very easily, but he knew Eva would be able to detect the hint of guilt in his voice. Curse it all.

"Bull crap! Yes, you did! Don't lie to me again, Jarryd; I know you too well. What happened?"

He let out a small sigh, "At breakfast I was somewhat cold," which was not far from the truth, but far enough to be white lie, "She got a little perturbed," a rather huge understatement, "And I kinda blurted out that she was wearing Ashlyn's old clothes. You of all people, Eva, should have known not to give Isabelle her clothes."

"Woah, now, don't go blaming me. I gave her clothes that were not being worn and looked to be her size. I didn't expect you to remember them; it's been over nine years, Jarryd." She said in defense.

He ran his fingers through his hair. "I was just surprised; I wasn't expecting it… I think it would be a good idea, next time you're in town, to get Isabelle some new clothes."

"That sounds just fine, but, Jarryd, I've known you for a long time. I know how you can let your anger run away with you… This is one girl you can't do that with. She's already vulnerable as it is, without you being all mad. She feels lonely and she's in a completely new environment. You need to make an effort to make her feel comfortable, not only physically, but emotionally."

Eva turned to leave but after cracking the door, faced Jarryd, still sitting in his chair, "Despite these circumstances, I can tell she is a very special girl. She has some very unique qualities about her. I would encourage you to find out what those qualities are."

He gave her a stiff nod as she left.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Isabelle looked out her window to the sun brightened grounds around the mansion. From the view of her window she could see the outer walls of the left corridor and below, a small garden that was swaying with the call of winter.

She called herself a thousand kinds of idiot. She couldn't believe she had let her frustrations go unchecked like that.

_His sister's clothes._

_Dumb._

She had definitely not expected him to say that.

She sighed as she looked over to the windows of the other part of the mansion, which all sported either dark interiors or curtained windows.

_Lord, help me._

She had just finished participating in a long, hard crying session and she once again felt the tears come back, creating a film over her eyes.

_Come on, Isabelle. Pull yourself together. This isn't the end of the world. You just happened to make yourself look insensitive... Really, really insensitive, but still it's not the end of the world._

She sniffled and brought her hand up to her face to wipe away the tears with the pads of her fingers.

She needed to get out of this room; it was only making things worse, her being alone.

_He said I could go wherever I want inside the house- the mansion. _

May be it was time for her curiosity to be slaked. She slipped on the pair of black flats that she brought with her and opened the door leading to the hall.

She started with the room directly across from her. It was pretty much the same layout as hers except no fire place. It had different color sheets on the bed, but other than that it looked practically identical.

Isabelle looked in each room on her hall. Every one that she went in was a mix of guest rooms and offices, minus a broom closet. She could still smell cleaning products in most of the rooms even though they looked to be less than lived in.

There was one more on this hall that she hadn't looked in. She put her hand on the knob and turned it. It looked like any other bedroom she had looked at, but there was something different about it that had nothing to do with the room itself. She looked closer; it had more personal effects than the rest of the rooms.

That alone, made her walk into the room, curiosity radiating from her body.

_Isabelle, don't you remember the say: Curiosity killed the cat?_

_But satisfaction brought it back._ She added smugly.

The walls were a light grey, making the room have an archaic type feel. The bed had a rich, violet spread contrasting with silver sheets and pillow shams.

On the bed stand right next to it was a picture frame. She carefully lifted the frame so that she could see it clearly.

A girl had her hands around the torso of a younger version of Jarryd. The one thing that was different about him, beside his teenage youth, was the fact that no scars marred his Adonis-like features. Her fingers touched his face where she knew them to be now. She turned her focus away from Jarryd to the girl in his arms. She had dark hair, almost black, with a red strip of color in her swoop bangs.

She was no doubt his sister. They both shared the same eyes. Ice blue. Along with their smiles. Perfect teeth behind perfect lips.

With one last glance at Jarryd she put down the picture frame and looked around the room. It looked like it was cleaned regularly, but it looked too that it was not lived in.

There across the room a door sat ajar. Her curiosity piqued once again, she went over to see a closet full of clothes with the same styles as the outfit she had on.

_My sister's clothes,_ His voice coming back to haunt her mind.

She quickly shut the closet door and left the room. With Jarryd's reaction earlier she thought it best to leave immediately just in case someone were to see her. She had been told all rooms, except his, were okay to be in, so in actuality she wasn't doing anything wrong; however, she still felt as though it were an invasion of privacy.

She looked to each side of the hall. No one was about. She proceeded down the corridor her curiosity still not satisfied.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

For the umpteenth time, Jarryd tried to refocus. He had been sitting in the library for at least an hour and a half, getting nothing done in the process.

What Eva had said earlier seemed to haunt him.

_She is a very special girl. _

He ran his fingers through his dark hair. He needed some fresh air for a little bit. He stared out the window. It was a nice day, bright and sunny compared to the wet, cloudy day they had yesterday.

He walked out of the library and down the stairs in the foyer. He needed to get his mind on something else besides Isabelle, and going outside would hopefully help.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Up in the nook where the right corridor met the foyer, Isabelle silently watched Jarryd walk out the front door. He had a particular swagger to his walk. He didn't strut; it was more like a commanding walk; not arrogant but assertive. Each movement was deliberate, yet it was unusually graceful and lithe.

Once the front door was firmly shut behind him, she walked across the valley area of the stairs toward the left hall.

Like before, she noticed it was quite similar to the right corridor. It had many monochromic paintings lining the walls making the already dark hall, darker.

She stopped at the door she had talked to Jarryd at after breakfast. She remembered back to which room was off limits; this one wasn't included.

She opened the door quietly and poked her head in. She gasped; bookcases lined the walls and created isles in the middle of the spacious room. Oh, how she loved books! She enjoyed reading about as much as life itself.

She moved fully inside, not bothering with closing the door. Her eyes moved towards the closest bookcase, her hands grazing the beautiful bindings of hundreds of books. Everything was in Alphabetical order by author's last name.

She started looking for her favorite book. She noticed she was in the T section, so she immediately began looking for the A's.

A few feet away, she found the bookshelf that held the A's. Her eyes began raping the shelves looking for the specific book. It only took a few seconds for her to find it. She gently took out the leather bound novel. _Pride & Prejudice_ by _Jane Austen._

Her eyes studied the book. It was clearly a first edition.

_Amazing._

Her copy was a paperback, which meant, with as many times she had read it, the binding was broken in many spots, the cover nicked in places, and pages overly worn with doggy earing.

This on the other hand was in mint condition. She gently held the book in her hands as she looked for a spot to sit and read.

Her eyes caught a built-in window seat on the far wall.

_Perfect._

She made herself comfortable, her back leaning against one wall and her feet lying out in front of her only reaching halfway across the red velvet seat.

She opened the book, letting its musty pages waft to her nose as she began to read and for once forget where she was and under whose roof she lived under.

"_It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of good fortune must be in want of a wife..."_

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After wandering the grounds for roughly thirty minutes Jarryd decided to return to the library.

His stroll around his property was very relaxing. He was able to get away from some of the thoughts that had been plaguing him since that morning, which was relieving; however, thoughts of Isabelle were not that far away and always hid in the recesses of his mind.

He had made a mess of that morning –that was putting it lightly. Even though he had been calm while she ranted, he knew he succeeded in making her feel as small as a bug, which made him feel even worse; like he had disarmed her from her only weapon.

Jarryd quietly opened the already ajar library door and was heading toward his desk when he heard a soft, small giggle from the window seat.

He peaked over one of the bookcases and saw the culprit. There was Isabelle, legs curled up to her chest, reading a leather bound novel. She hadn't noticed him enter and was completely oblivious to anything that didn't pertain to the story she was reading.

He came out from behind the bookshelf and cleared his throat.

Her joyful grin disappeared in a flash and was replaced with fear and apprehension as her head spun around to meet him.

She immediately closed the book and was about to get up but was cut off by Jarryd's voice.

"Please, don't get up."

A quietness settled over the library as she sat rigid on the window seat and stared into his face, her deep eyes probing.

As much as he hated to open his mouth and say sorry, he knew it was the only thing that would make the situation better. He ignored the roaring of his pride and began, "I want to apologize for what happened earlier. I realize that you are in a… different kind of situation and I shouldn't have reacted like that at breakfast."

Isabelle was surprised beyond speech. That was definitely the last thing she had expected to come from his gorgeous mouth.

_Gorgeous mouth, huh? You are in so much trouble._

_Shut up._

She looked down at her hands, pink tingeing her cheeks at her thoughts , "No," she replied, in turn making Jarryd's head shoot up from its downcast position in a confused manner. "I should be the one to apologize. I was being very callous and I let my anger run away with me. I should have been more sensitive. I get myself into trouble sometimes because I tend not to think before I say things."

He gave her a lopsided grin, "We'll call it even." He said simply.

She looked back up into his face with a small smile of her own.

"What are you reading?"

"_Pride & Prejudice_; it's one of my favorite classics." She explained.

"So you're a Jane Austen fan?"

"I've only read one other book by her_. Sense & Sensibility_. But I've yet to get my hands on a copy of the rest of her books." She replied, her voice betraying her disappointment.

"Come here. I want to show you something." Jarryd said, holding out his hand to help her from the window seat. She gracefully placed her hand in his and walked beside him to the bookcase she had found _Pride & Prejudice_. His hand was warm and comforting, something she was not used to.

_Maybe this is who he is._

_Maybe._

"All of her literary works are right here. There's _Emma, Sense & Sensibility, Northanger Abbey, Lady Susan, Persuasion, Mansfield Park_, and of course, _Pride & Prejudice_, which you have." At reaching the bookshelf he let go of her hand –it was quite distracting, her warm skin against his.

"It's fine with you that I read your books?" She asked, looking up into his face.

Normally, he didn't like people looking at him and his scars, but something about Isabelle's eyes were captivating and conveyed no horror –apprehension, maybe, but he did not think that was because of his physical appearance more so than his previous actions.

"Of course. You can read whatever you like. I'm not a big reader, so believe me when I say, they will not be missed."

She stared back at him, uncomprehendingly. "You don't read? Not at all?"

"I used to when I was younger, but then lost interest as I grew up." He didn't want her to give him a reason to talk about his past, so he directed the next question to her. "Do you have any other favorite books?"

She was quiet for a few seconds, "That is truly one of the hardest questions you could ever ask me; there are so many." She gave a small laugh before she began to name them off, "umm… I like anything by Francine Rivers, but mostly I'm into the classics: _Les Mes, Lord of the Rings, Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, the Count of Monte Cristo_… those sort of books."

He was quiet for a short moment, "I'll just pretend I know what all those books are about." He said, trying to hide his grin.

"You mean you don't know what _Lord of the Rings_ is about? You're a guy! You should at least know what that book is about!" She said not trying to hide her surprise.

"I know what _Lord of the Rings_ is about, thank you very much; I just don't know much about the others you named." He stated matter-of-factly.

She had an odd look come over her face. She bit the corner of her lip and looked down out the book shelf that held Jane Austen's works.

"I'm sorry. That came out bad. I didn't mean to make you sound dumb." She said shyly, lowering her head.

At hearing her cute apology, he let out a roar of laughter. What she said wasn't all that funny really, but her face, a mix between shame and shyness, made him want to laugh.

Her face contorted into a mirror of confusion.

"What are you laughing at?" She asked placing fists on her slim hips.

"You." He let out between breaths and guffaws.

"And why is that?" She questioned. He loved how she was becoming more comfortable around him. He let his laughter die out and took her hand in his.

"You're too sweet for your own good." He said simply, bringing her hand up to his lips to plant a small, warm kiss to the back of her hand.

She felt fire trace the spot where his lips had met her hand. She was completely taken off guard once again and couldn't utter a single word.

He didn't give her a chance to reply, "I'll see you at lunch." He said, a twinkle in his blue eyes and left her with her thoughts.

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**A/N: First of all I DO NOT want to take any credit for **_**Pride & Prejudice**_** by Jane Austen. The quotation in this chapter is the first line in that book; therefore, I did NOT write it. I also have no affiliation with the rest of her books (**_**Emma, Sense and Sensibility, Mansfield Park, Northanger Abbey, Lady Susan, Persuasion**_**), along with **_**Lord**__**of the Rings, Les Meserables, Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, the Count of Monte Cristo**_**, or any Francine Rivers books (which I highly recommend).**

**I hoped you liked this chapter at least a little. I know it was quite slow, but I thought it imperative that the readers understand what the characters were feeling and a little bit about Jarryd's background. Are there any guesses as to what happened with his family? I love hearing what you think will happen so let me know what you think about it.**

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	4. Of Nightmares and Lightning

**A/N: Hey guys, so this is the fourth chapter. I'm sorry that you had to wait so long! I had finals for school in April/May and then I was out of the country for two months, so I am sorry how delayed this is. I hope you like this chapter! ^_^**

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The rest of the day went by slowly. Lunch had been a quiet affair of sandwiches and small talk. The topic of conversation stayed mostly in the 'books' category, specifically staying away from the 'past'. Isabelle didn't push it because she knew he would put up walls that she wouldn't be able to scale. He always seemed so guarded when it came to certain subjects.

She didn't push the subject of the kiss on her hand either. It had tingled long after his departure and made her mind wonder at his intentions. She remembered the look in his eyes- they were full of mirth, but she could see a glimmer of something else in them; what was it?

_It was probably just unintentional. Don't put too much thought into. Most girls do that and you see how that works out for them… they end up making fools out of themselves._

She heaved a sigh at the thought and moved on.

After lunch she found herself back on that same window seat in that same library reading _Pride & Prejudice_. She was enthralled at the old English language, and its elegance. _Pride & Prejudice_ had always been her favorite but ever since she had officially gotten her own apartment away from her dad she had left the well-worn copy in a box in her dad's attic.

Her eyes ate up the pages, reading the moment Darcy thought Jane the only handsome woman in the room. She laughed quietly at his prideful mistake.

Time seemed to go on without her, leaving her in the realm of Elizabeth Bennett's problems and family issues. Before she knew it had become dark with drunken clouds, she hadn't realized it until rain pounded loudly against the window, making her jump.

She looked out the window in confusion. It had been so pretty earlier. She looked around the room at its dimly lit bookcases and got up to stretch her limbs.

_I must have been in here for hours. It didn't seem that long though._

She picked up the book from the seat and proceeded out the door to her room in the other corridor eager to find security in her bed's soft sheets. The great hall seemed ominous in its dark shades and cold atmosphere. She immediately increased her pace, reaching her room in record time.

Normally, she enjoyed storms and rain, but now she wasn't so sure. They seemed to make the mansion scarier and bigger somehow; as if it would swallow her whole in its dark crevices.

She opened the door to her room and walked in, the fire place only warm embers of a fading fire. She went over and put another log, making the fire spring up once more. Apparently, along with the rain came a cold front. A shiver creped down her spine. Everything carried a chill.

She looked at her bed which had been made earlier in the day- probably by Eva- and saw that at the end of the bed, two small stacks of clothes. Pajamas consisting of a light pink tank top and red, pink and white plaid sleep pants along with under clothing. She looked through the other stack and found extra underwear and bras with tomorrow's clothes: a deep brown top, that could be dressed up or down depending on what else you wore with it and a pair of dark wash skinny jeans. She looked at the tags and was once again was surprised at the fact that they were her exact size.

She grabbed her pajamas and slipped them on after stripping herself of her out clothing.

After putting/hanging her clothes neatly in her closet she went to the hearth and poked the log to make sure she had a good fire going. She didn't want to have to get up in the middle of the night just because she was cold. After testing the heat coming from the fireplace, she scampered to her bed and snuggled under the comforter and sheets and burrowed deeper into the large bed, letting her mind drift to sleep…

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_I ran through the dark forest, cold rain stinging my face and dampening my brown hair. I was soaked to the bone. My clothes felt like they were sponges and my shoes were soggy and squishy._

"_Dad, where are you?" I yelled._

_Lightning danced around me illuminating the damp foliage. I had to find my dad. He was out there alone without anyone to be with him. Thunder crashed and I could have sworn it struck somewhere close by; the sounds and vibrations were way too loud. _

_I'm normally not scared of anything, but for some reason I wasn't only frightened for my father, I was frightened for myself. I didn't know where I was or where I was going, I only knew that I was looking for my dad._

"_Dad!"_

_My tears started mixing with the rain. I made a sharp left, ducking under low branches, some of them scratching my face and letting loose a trickle of blood._

_Leaning on a large oak tree to catch my breath, I heard a moan against the cacophony of the storm._

_I turned once more around the trunk of a large tree and saw him lying on the ground face down. _

"_Dad?" I whispered to myself in panic. I rushed towards him, kneeling down beside him and began searching for places where he was hurt but saw no flesh wounds or blood. _

"_Dad, are you okay?" I asked somewhat at ease with not finding any bloody pieces of fabric._

_I turned him over and came face to face with vacant eyes and a bloodless face._

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Her eyes shot open and her breathing was rough with terror. That dream had been so real. She felt as the tears started trickling down the side of her face and into her hair.

She looked around the room. The storm had become much stronger and lightning was bouncing off all the walls, making shadows dance and move with the help of her frightened imagination.

She quickly ripped the covers off her and fled her room and its strange shadowy occupants. Her bare feet tapped hard against the floor of the corridors and she ran- fright still coursing through her veins. The chill of the air made goose-bumps rise on her bare arms and made her even colder.

A boom of thunder shook the mansion making Isabelle scream in fear of being struck. Her arms flew over her head as she cowered under the elements' oppressive sound and squeezed her eyes shut. When she realized she was okay and that nothing happened, she continued on, not really paying full attention on where she was headed.

She hit the left corridor with fear in her steps, but instead of coming into an empty dark hall, she saw a lone person with a flashlight shining right in her face, making him a tall, built silhouette. Her feet stopped their flight.

"Isabelle?" Came a sleep sullen voice from the black silhouette behind the bright light.

Jarryd turned the flashlight away from her face so that the light would give off a dim glow without blinding either of them.

She stared at his bedraggled appearance. He still looked more than beautiful, sleepy though he was. Her eyes skimmed his clothes- or lack thereof. He was in deep navy pajama pants but no shirt.

She sucked in her breath as she felt her cheeks flush in an embarrassed pink. She turned strait back around planning on going back to her room, fear or no fear.

"Hey, wait." His deep voice resonated in the empty room along with the sounds of the malicious storm outside and his footsteps as he ran after her. He grabbed her arm gently and spun her around to face him.

His face searched hers; her eyes dark umber and full of fear.

"Isabelle, what's wrong?" He looked at closer at her face; into her watery eyes, "And why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying. Good night." She answered shakily- she was trying to convey confidence but failed miserably. However, she did succeed in slipping out of the hold he had on her left arm, but she could not evade his immediate grasp on her wrist as she tried to leave.

"Yes, you are. What's wrong?" When his questions were met with silence, he went further, taking a cautionary step towards her. Even though he was holding her wrist she still stood a few feet away. "I heard someone scream." He looked at her curiously.

"Maybe you were having a dream." She quipped sharply, trying to save face.

"I'm a light sleeper- I know it wasn't a dream, Isabelle." He said boring his eyes into her dimly lit ones.

She stared back, knowing she'd been caught. Why had she run here of all places? There was a flash of light that illuminated the room and made her flinch strongly.

More lightning and thunder sounded as the pool of tears in her eyes began to stream down her face. Her father's face had been so still. She couldn't bear it. Those vacant eyes seemed to always be in her mind's eye.

Jarryd took another cautionary step towards her and moved his hands to rest lightly on her shoulders. He didn't ask her anything; he only looked at her with concern.

"Nightmare," Isabelle whispered simply, her eyes downcast.

"Oh." Jarryd said in understanding. He used to have nightmares after his father had tried to-

"I'm sorry I woke you." She said in a small, guilty voice.

"No," he interrupted her, happily tearing his mind away from the past. "It's fine, really. Was it the storm?"

"Yeah, maybe, I don't know. When I woke up, my heart was racing and my brain was letting my imagination run wild-" She choked back a sob.

The trails of tears were still evident on her cheeks. He brought his hands up to cradle her face and wiped away her salt water tears with the pads of his thumbs.

Her brown eyes lifted to meet his in the darkness and it seemed as though he could see all her fear, as if her were reading a book. He looked down at her beautiful face. What was that in the pit of his stomach? It was like a lump that wouldn't go away.

His hands moved from her shoulders to encircle her waist, bringing her close against his body as a new onset of tears came. Her body was shaking as she received his hug and brought her arms up to rest on his chest. He felt her warm tears drip from her face to his bare skin. She let out a soft whimper.

_It must not have been a normal nightmare._ He thought to himself.

His right hand started moving up and down her back in a comforting movement.

"Sssshhhh… Everything will be all right, I promise." He said in a soft soothing voice, trying to comfort her fear. He felt her grip slip a bit and stabled her with his arms. "Isabelle, are you okay?"

"No," she whimpered through her tears, leaning her full weight on him, knowing her legs would not be able to hold.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." She put a steadying arm around her back and slowly walked her to her room. Her steps weren't at all graceful; actually, they were rather slopping with how exhausted she was. He opened the door to her room and walked her to the edge of her bed and lifted her thin form to rest on the sheets.

He covered her fully and looked down into her face. "Thank you," she whispered sleepily.

"You're welcome." He whispered back and planted a kiss in her hair. He stood back and covered her body with the sheets and comforter. He turned to her fireplace, which had been long out and started a nice comfortable fire before he left her to sleep peacefully.

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He walked down the corridor, he felt as if he were in a strobe light. The lightning was everywhere; all around the mansion.

His mind drifted to Isabelle. What had she been dreaming about? Whatever it was it had seriously upset her. He had a knot in his stomach when he looked into her eyes; it was a mix of concern and something else that he couldn't put his finger on.

He walked back to his room and opened his room. It was larger than most in the mansion and held a huge king sized bed mounted with a gold and red bedspread. His eyes slowly glazed the room; the emptiness, the unimportant possessions, the sorrow of long lost memories.

He sighed heavily and got into bed; however, it was a long time after, until he fell asleep.

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**Hello, all! Again I am sorry about the delay. It's been too long and I don't deserve all you wonderful readers! I hope you enjoyed this last chapter it is somewhat short but I need to get back into the swing of things again. I wonder what Jarryd's past is about. What is he hiding? What happened to Ashlyn, his sister?.....hhhmmmm I wonder….**

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	5. Of Sporks and Cheerios

**Hey all! I'm sorry it took a little time to get this one up. I hope you like it! :)**

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Isabelle woke up, eyes still drowsy with sleep. Bright rays of light showed through the windows, giving the room a warmer temperature than the chill from last night.

_Last night._

Her mind retraced its steps back to the nightmare. She shivered involuntarily at the thought of her father's lifeless eyes. She remembered her fear of the storm and strong arms around her. She blushed at her thoughts.

_Why did you go to his room?_

_I didn't! I just walked into the halfway and he was standing there._

_You didn't walk, you ran, dummy. _

_Walked fast-_

_Into his arms._

_No, no, no... now that is uncalled for._

_Don't lie; you know you enjoyed it._

_What?! I barely know the man!_

_That doesn't matter. Admit it; you're attracted to him._

_He is… a rather… good looking guy… with that beautiful voice and eyes that spar- _ahem-_ but I'm not attracted to him!_

_I rest my case._

She gave an annoyed sigh when her internal chat had run its course. Sometimes she felt like there was the shoulder angel/devil scenario going on but she never really knew what to do about that.

Isabelle got up out of bed to get ready for the day, taking a nice hot shower and put on nicely cleaned clothes letting them flow over her body.

Not even knowing the time she went downstairs in hopes of some food to line her stomach. She stepped into the dining room to find it empty. She turned to a door on the opposite side of the room. It was white with double hinges so that it could swing both ways. She opened it and saw the kitchen beyond it for the first time since she had gotten there.

Most of the room consisted of stainless steel appliances along with dark oak cupboards and beige, granite counter tops.

As her eyes studied her surrounding, a deep 'ahem' sounded at a small bar area off to her right. There Jarryd was, still in his pajama pants; however, this time he was also wearing a dark grey shirt undershirt, not leaving much imagination concerning his muscles.

"I hope you don't mind, I gave the staff the morning off." He looked at her from across the room, "You can grab a bowl from that cupboard," he said pointing, "and cereal is in the pantry to your left."

For the first time, she noticed that he had a box of Honey-nut Cheerios and a jug of milk, and was eating from a bowl of his own.

She nodded and went to the specified places and grabbed a bowl. She pulled open the nearest drawer, trying to find the spoons.

She looked in one and immediately shut it. _Not there._

She opened the one directly to her left. _ Not there either._

"Check the drawer closest to the pantry, over there." He commented absent-mindedly, jabbing the end of his spoon in the direction of another white door, a bit smaller in width than a normal door.

She looked at him as he brought a spoonful of Cheerios to his mouth and then walked over towards the pantry and pulled open the drawer next to it. Not only was there a mountain of spoons but a ton more utensils- even silver sporks. She thought those were only used in nasty grade school cafeterias.

Jarryd caught the funny look on her face and gave a small chuckle. She looked up at him curiously, "Don't ask me why we have sporks. I am in the dark as much as you."

She smiled and her cheeks were tinged a slight pink as she realized she had been read so easily. She took a spoon and went to the pantry to look at the cereal selection: Lucky Charms, Raisin Bran, Granola, and another unopened box of Honey-nut Cheerios. No one could tell what Jarryd's favorite cereal was.

She was normally a Frosted Flakes kind of girl, but she could deal with Cheerios just fine.

She walked towards the bar where Jarryd was pouring himself a second bowl. After he had put the half empty box and jug of milk down, she picked the box up and filled her bowl with the yumminess of Cheerios and then poured the milk, practically drowning her cereal.

She was one of those girls that liked putting so much milk in it that the cereal would tumble over the edge of the bowl.

She, little by little, immersed every non-milky Cheerio in her bowl. Then took a nice sized bite to spoon in her mouth, but before it made it to its destination, she caught Jarryd's stare and lowered the full spoon back to its original place.

"What?" She asked honestly.

He gave a small snicker and grinned casually, "Do you always eat your cereal like that?"

Her cheeks went completely red at his correct observation.

He watched her nod her head and lower her eyes as the pink flush creped across her cheeks.

He decided to ignore her embarrassment and drew his attention back to his own breakfast, shaking his head and shoveling a spoonful into his mouth. After a few awkward seconds, she began eating too and soon forgot her discomfort.

He finished first and went to the sink to rinse his bowl. She finished not far behind him and joined him at the sink.

"I'm sorry I woke you up last night." Isabelle blurted without even thinking.

He immediately stopped cleaning the other dishes that lay in the sink. Her heart started to beat faster as she watched his hands stop the flow of water by pushing the tap off.

"It's not a big deal." He said, taking a dish towel and drying off the bowls he had cleaned.

"It was to me," she said quietly, sure he couldn't have heard her.

"What was it that scared you so much?" he asked, putting the dry dishes on the countertop in front of her, indicating that she put them away.

She took them and put them in the designate cabinets. "It was just a nightmare; I don't really even remember it."

"Well, that's the biggest understand I've ever heard." Jarryd said in an even voice, not accepting her flimsy excuse.

She stayed quiet, deciding not to answer.

He stopped drying the other dishes and turned to her. Bright blue eyes warred with soft brown ones. They were warring for an answer. The truth.

She lowered her gaze first. "My dad- he died," she whispered- almost scared that if she said it aloud it might come true.

"I'm sure he's fine." Jarryd answered letting some of the softness in his eyes seep away at the mention of the man he had kicked out of his house. He put the rest of the dishes he had cleaned away himself. He didn't want to talk about her father with her; it reminded him of his mistakes.

_No; no mistakes were made. You did what you had to do. Nothing's wrong with that._

He tried to listen to his own silent reasoning, but somewhere see he knew he was wrong; what he had done was wrong.

He walked to the door leading to the dining room, but quickly remembered, "Eva is going to town to get a few things. Give her your clothing sizes to her so she can buy some for you, so you don't have to wear hand-me-downs."

Before she could object, he was gone, the door shutting firmly behind his retreating figure.

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Was it just her, or did he she feel an invisible wall go up between her and Jarryd?

_You were talking about your dad. Of course, he doesn't like that._

She made a small pact with herself that she wouldn't mention her father in front of him. It wasn't only painful for her but it also might be hurting him and she didn't want that. She also didn't want pity, so she promised herself not to mention it to anyone at all, not even Eva.

With confidence in her steps, she walked across the hall over to the corridor where her room led to. She walked into the room and was surprised to find Eva sitting down in a chair next to the window, waiting for her. At her entrance, Eva stood up.

"Hey, Eva," Isabelle said casually.

"Hi, I was wondering if the clothes that you have been borrowing are fitting you." Eva knew they were. "I am going to the store this afternoon and I thought I might be able to pick up some clothing for you and maybe some underwear even."

"Oh, yes. All of Ashlyn's clothes fit perfectly!" Isabelle went on to give her the sizes she wore.

Eva even went on to ask what size shoes she wore. A little surprised, Isabelle gave her the correct size, but interrupted to say she didn't need any shoes.

"Jarryd said to get you shoes." She said, quieting her protests. "I will be back this evening with your things."

"Wait, Eva! I don't have any money. I can't pay for new clothes."

"You don't need to pay. Jarryd said he would cover the full cost. I'll see you tonight." Eva said then left without further ado.

Isabelle sat down on her bed in a huff. This morning was the cause of so many different emotions and feelings, plus she gets new clothes without paying for them. Talk about overwhelmed.

She gave one more large sigh and laid back on her bed, looking up at the designs on the ceiling.

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Jarryd sat back in his chair behind his desk, his figure pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. It had been 3 days since she had gotten there. She seemed to have been adjusting fairly well until she had woke up from her nightmare.

The events of last night had made things somewhat awkward but he couldn't help that.

_Situations are only as awkward as you make them. _He reminded himself.

_You enjoyed her arms around you last night. _His thoughts whispered.

_No, that isn't going to happen. It can't._

_And why not?_

_To love is to destroy. It makes a person vulnerable and weak. I'm not weak._

He dismissed his internal argument and began poring over his papers. He couldn't fall for her; he could enjoy her company, yes, but there could be no feelings; none at all.

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**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Honey-nut Cheerios, Frosted Flakes, Lucky Charms, and Raisin Bran; they belong to their respective owners.**

****************Hope you guys liked this chapter. It is a little slow, but I needed you guys to see Jarryd and how he thinks love destroys a person and makes them weak. This story will start picking up soon so please stay tuned. And remember I really want to know what you guys think! So please, please, please…**

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**Prettyinpinkgal: thanks so much for your critique! I actually have been editing the past chapters and just haven't had the time to replace them on FF or FP. But I have changed the older English speech for mentioned. Thanks and I look forward to more critiques as chapters are produced! ^_^**


	6. Of Ball Room Chemistry and Narnia

**Hey, you lot! 2 chapters in a day! Who would have foreseen that? **

**I think you guys will like this one! It has some cute fluff in it! ^_^**

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Days seemed to pass and turn into weeks for Jarryd and Isabelle.

They had both gotten into somewhat of a routine as the days flew by. They would get up and eat breakfast together in pleasant conversation; afterwards, he would go out and check the grounds- whatever that meant- but Isabelle was not allowed outside, so she could not accompany him.

During his Trespassers Check (which is what she secretly called it), she would have tea with Eva. They had actually become very good friends, despite their age difference. Eva was fairly reserved, but once out of her shell she became a woman full of laughter and good stories.

Isabelle loved meeting with Eva, it gave her somewhat of normalcy which her current situation would have deprived her of. There would even be times when Isabelle would help Eva with her chores or other things that needed to be done around the mansion.

Normally, Jarryd and Isabelle wouldn't eat lunch together. His time at his desk and doing the Trespassers Check always varied, so they normally ate lunch at different times; however, they did see each other once they both were in the library for the afternoon.

She had finished _Pride and & Prejudice_ weeks ago along with some other Jane Austen books. When Jarryd was working in the afternoon that was what she found herself doing; reading. She would read on that same window seat she had the first day and he would work at his desk, ruffling through papers as they both went quietly about their business until they went down to dinner together.

It was a good routine for Isabelle. It gave her a balance of work and relaxation that didn't make her feel totally useless.

"What book are you reading now?" Jarryd asked, putting the sandwich to his mouth. this was one of the few times they actually ate together at lunch.

Isabelle looked up and gave a small smile, "I just finished _Jane Eyre_, so I'm not sure what book to start next. I was think about starting the _Chronicles of Narnia_, but I haven't looked to see if you have them or not."

"They're up there. I've seen them somewhere in that room." He said pleasantly.

Isabelle just nodded and tossed a carrot stick in her mouth.

"I've never read the _Chronicles of Narnia_." Jarryd mentioned conversationally.

This sparked an idea in Isabelle's mind.

"Would you like me to read it to you in the evenings? I know you're busy during the day, but maybe if you don't have anything to do after dinner we could read together." If she would have thought about what exactly she was saying she might have blushed at her directness, but she tried to push those thoughts from her mind.

His head came up and he stopped chewing mid bite. He looked into her face with surprise. After a few seconds, he swallowed and replied, "That sounds good."

She gave him a small grin and lowered her eyes to her plate of food and began taking small bites.

He looked away from her, after she took another bite, and began eating as well. He did not expect her to say something like that. Of course, they had been very congenial with each other the past 3 weeks, but he wasn't sure if that was because she genuinely liked him or if it was because she didn't want to make her situation worse.

His stomach started knotting, making him lose his appetite. Reading to him. That seemed like such a selfless act to him.

_She is selflessness incarnate; not just that one action. Look at what she did the first day you met her._

He looked back on that day, normally he got upset if he thought about it or if it was brought up, but this time he saw the selflessness of Isabelle. Her heart. Her selfless heart.

"Are you alright?" Came a small voice a couple of feet away.

He was brought out of his reverie suddenly as if a bucket of ice water were tossed on him. He looked up to find Isabelle staring at him, true concern in her eyes.

"You haven't eaten much," she observed.

He put on a small smile, "I'm fine; I'm just not as hungry this afternoon."

"Oh," she said in a small voice.

He looked at her plate, which was nearly empty and saw her napkin that normally would sit on her lap on the table, signaling her being finished with her lunch.

"I'm going to go up to the library to get some paperwork done." He said, rising from his seat.

"Eva wanted to show me a couple of things, so I will be up in a bit."

"That's fine." He said, leaving the dining room after her.

He reached his library then remembered that he needed to mention a couple of things to Eva concerning Isabelle. He had asked her a couple of days ago if she could find out when Isabelle's birthday was, but he never got an answer back.

He walked across the Great Hall over towards her corridor in search of Eva. There she was hunching over in a cleaning closet.

"Hey, Eva." He greeted her.

"Hi. Do you need something?" She asked.

"I was wondering if you found out when her birthday is yet." He asked, hoping she had an answer.

"No, I haven't. I will find out soon though." she said, "If you will excuse me, I have to get some dust rags out of the downstairs closet. I'll let you know when I find out."

"Of course."

At her steady retreat, he heard a soft melodic hum come from a few doors down; Isabelle's room.

He walked down the corridor until he was outside her door, which stood ajar. He looked through the crack even though he was no peeping tom, but decided that he would risk embarrassment for both of them.

There she was in all her grace and beauty twirling around in circles, hand held out to settle on an invisible partner. Her flowy shirt gathered and puffed as she spun out. It was then that Jarryd decided to act.

As soon as she spun into her invisible dance partner's arms, Jarryd materialized in its place, taking her hand gently in his.

She didn't realize the pressure his hand had until she spun in and met him full in the face. Her humming stopped abruptly at the sight of him. Her eyes were mirrors of embarrassment and shock. She didn't move. He was there holding her hand in his left and her other hand resting on his upper chest.

He didn't say anything; he only looked down at her lash-veiled eyes. Her shock was now turning fully to embarrassment, he could tell by the rich color in her cheeks. He loved that color of pink. He almost reached out to touch it when she spoke, "How long have you been watching me?"

"Long enough to know you needed a partner." He answered smugly.

"And what made you think that I needed a partner?" She asked, perturbed at how much she liked being in his arms.

"Have you ever heard, 'It takes two to tango'? Well take that in a more literal sense." he said, chuckling to himself.

"Well, if you will excuse me, I should get going." She said trying to push out of his arms. He held her firm in his grasp. She made it sound like she had an appointment out of town or something.

_You don't need to go anywhere, Isabelle._

She looked at him, her eyes angrily probing, "Can you please let me go, Jarryd?"

It was his name that caught him off guard. The odd, musical way his name rolled off her tongue. It was mesmerizing, but as soon as he realized his mistake she was out of his grasp on the other side of the room, heading towards the door.

"Where are you going, Isabelle?" He met her stare straight on and knew she could not lie to him.

"Around." She said with an attitude.

She hated how she actually liked being in Jarryd's arms. How his dance moves had not only meshed with hers, but how both their steps complimented each other. That's what her old dance teacher would call Ball Room Chemistry.

She was melted butter when he was that close. She could deal with him when he seemed more distant or cooler in demeanor, but back there in her room his eyes were warm almost like a candle's flame, soft but none the less fierce.

As she walked away, she left a smirking Jarryd in her wake. He knew she was a little unsettled with her own reaction to him. He could see the warring in her eyes. The mix of emotions. He chuckled quietly and went back to the library to finish up his paper work.

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They ate a small dinner together, earlier events semi-forgotten as they talked of books.

"Now what is this book that we are going to read about?" He asked. He had heard of it before but had forgotten what it was about.

"It's about these four children who find their way into another world. It's an amazing story with adventure and fight sequences and everything." She answered anxiously.

"It sounds good. Why don't we go to the sitting room, unless you would like to read in the library?"

You could see her excitement as her eyes got bigger at his suggestion. "The sitting room is fine. I'll go up to the library to get the book."

She got up from the table, the rest of her food forgotten, with a little more bounce in her step than she had prior to supper and quickly made her way up the stairs to the library to retrieve the book.

He smiled at her enthusiasm and turned towards the sitting room across the hall from the kitchen.

"Sir, would you and Isabelle like some tea in the sitting room?" Candace asked before he could walk into the room. Candace was another of his employees in the house; she normally stayed in the kitchen with Wes, who was the head cook. Eva was head of cleaning, George was the one who kept the ground somewhat trimmed along with keeping things up to date and making sure no trespassers come around. Then you have James who was head of staff who did a little bit of everything and oversaw the goings on.

Right at that moment Isabelle was making her way down the stairs and looked over to Jarryd, a book in her hand.

"Would you like some tea, Isabelle?" He asked her, secretly amused at her jovial walk over to his side.

"No thanks, not unless you want some," she said awarding him with a beautiful smile.

"No thank you, Candace." he said kindly as he and Isabelle walked into the sitting room, which was giving off a good amount of light from the hearth.

He took a seat in his normal chair and watched Isabelle as she lay down on her stomach in the carpet in front of him. He looked at her in confusion. "Why are you on the floor? Do you want this seat?"

She looked up at him and gave a small chuckle, "No, this is actually what I used to do back home. I would always lie down in front of the fire place and read for hours just like this!"

Jarryd gave her a small smile as he also got down on his knees to lie down beside her. She grinned over at him and squirmed so that she was in a comfortable position.

She cleared her throat and began, "_The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ by C.S. Lewis." She turned the well-worn cover to the first chapter, "_Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy…" _

As pages turned he became more enraptured by the world of Narnia and its characters. He found himself picturing the whole thing like he was watching a movie and not actually hearing Isabelle reading it word for word.

Time seemed to stop as he met Mr. Tumnus, the White Witch and The Beavers. He wanted to go on, but Isabelle paused at chapter 8 long enough for Jarryd to come out of the world he had imagined in his mind.

"Oh, you must be tired. We can stop here for the night." He said, looking at the clock. It was only 9pm.

He didn't know the exact reason that Isabelle paused but she wasn't going to mention it. As she read page after page, she remembered that the last time she had read this, she hadn't really read it at all, but had heard someone read it to her. Her father. She thought it was interesting that her father had read this series to her and now she was reading it to Jarryd. She actually enjoyed it more than listening to someone read it.

She could tell Jarryd was just as fascinated with the world of Narnia as she was and that pleased her very much.

"Oh, I'm fine, but maybe we should save some for tomorrow. Sound good?"

"I can see why you read all the time." He observed.

She blushed as they both sat up leisurely and replied, "Yeah, it's really fun when you get a hold of a book that's like this and you can create your own world from the words printed on the paper." While she talked a ringlet of hair found its way to block her face and tickle her nose obnoxiously. Before she lifted her hand to brush it away, Jarryd's clever fingers tucked it firmly behind her ear.

"What are you thinking?" He asked suddenly.

She looked up into his face and saw the scars that marred his features. She would normally look past those to the blue eyes that hid behind the skin.

"Does it hurt?" Answering his question with a question.

"Does what hurt?" He asked in true confusion.

"Your scars," she said delicately. Normally he would take offense to this subject because of how personal it was, but those words coming off of Isabelle's tongue seemed like cool water pouring lightly over a burn; soothing.

"No," he answered quietly and honestly.

He wasn't looking at her; his eyes were focused on the dancing fire in the hearth. Despite the lack of eye contact she felt as though she could see all the emotions in its raging depths. Loneliness mixed with pain, and bitterness; it was all there muddled together in his ice blue eyes.

She couldn't help the hand that made its way to his face. She trailed the 3 scars, one with each finger, from above his eyebrow on down, the pads of her fingers taking on the jaggedness of the cuts. Two fingers traced the two scars above the eye and the other finger cradling the scar that went below it. They began the journey down his face, across the expanse of his cheek and to the corner of his chin, but they did not end there.

Her touch followed them down his neck, somehow they missed the artery that lay there and ended at his defined collar bone. At the end of her exploration she looked up to see his eyes flutter open to reveal those beautifully soft blue eyes.

He looked deep into her eyes, drinking in her beauty and wondering what she saw in him. Her soft, warm touch had felt like it burnt his skin when she first began, making his eyes dart to hers; but then her fingers took on more of a searching sense, like every jagged curve hid a secret she was trying to reveal. Her silent journey down his scars relaxed him yet set him on the fire, making his eyelids close at her soft touch.

Now their eyes were locked in a sudden game of intensity. Her eyes were larger than normal, displaying all her innocence for him to see, while his eyes were like dry brush igniting easily from spark of attraction.

He was devastatingly handsome to her right then, his eyes so blue and probing that Isabelle felt her breath leave her in a rush.

He leaned towards her ever so slightly as she sat there watching as this whole scene played out.

_You're not supposed to be with this guy! You don't even know him._

_Oh, but I want to._

She ignored the voices arguing in her mind and also leaned in a small bit. She could smell him; dark woodsy smell, mixed with pine and a wonderful scent of clean soap. She never thought soap could smell so good on a man.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt his hot breath on her face.

_Kiss me now._ She thought.

And he did. His lips met hers softly, shattering Isabelle's mind into oblivion. His hand curled around her waist bringing her even closer to him as his other hand cradled her face. Their lips moved in a beautiful dance as her fingers found their way to the place where his neck met his shoulders. He gave a small tug on her bottom lip and she gave a surprised gasp.

Her gasp seemed to break both of them out of their worlds of pleasure and drop them back into the real world of reality with a jolt. They separated their lips and looked at each other, inches apart.

Isabelle turned her head and cleared her throat, "I'm sorry, that probably should not have happened. I'll see you tomorrow morning." She said as she got up from her position on the floor and fled the room with a quick stride.

Jarryd, on the other hand, was not as quick with his thinking as she was. He sat there for a good five minutes trying to organize his thoughts into coherent sentences.

What had he just done?

Did he not just promise himself that he wouldn't fall for her?

He buried his face in his knees. He was in trouble. A lot of trouble.

But what could he do?

He needed to get away. Tomorrow.

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**A/N: So this did not go how I had planned at all… it was a good chapter I guess, but I normally had not even put this in my outline, I guess that's what happens when you just start writing the first thing you think about. This is like a mixture of 2 or 3 chapters…kinda. But I can't wait for the next one. I have the next one mostly written so look for it in a couple of day! ^_^**

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**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own **_**Jane**__**Eyre, Chronicles of Narnia/The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe**_**.**

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	7. Of Worries and Late Night Sandwiches

**A/N: Hey all! Yes, I know 3 updates in less than a week? Can you say, 'miracle?' Please R&R! ^_^**

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"Where is Jarryd? I haven't seen him anywhere all day." Isabelle said to Eva at lunch. She had missed him at breakfast this morning and thought maybe he had just gone out to do his Trespassers Check early, but when lunch time rolled around and she still didn't see him she began to wonder if he was avoiding her.

"Oh, he's gone out hunting." She said in a matter of fact tone.

"Did he go with James?" Isabelle asked, trying to mask her surprise. She hadn't known he hunted at all.

"No, Jarryd prefers to be alone when he hunts. He says it clears his mind from troubles."

Were the _troubles_ she referred to have anything to with her? With last night?

"Wait, he's alone?" she said in sudden realization and shock. "What if he gets injured or accidently hurts himself?"

Eva gave a small laugh, "Jarryd doesn't get hurt. He's too manly for that. Out of the many times he has gone hunting alone there has only been one mishap and he hated asking for help. Believe me; he won't get hurt unless he wants his pride taken down another few notches."

"What happened?" Isabelle said, still in shock.

"He had sprained his ankle and he had a rather nasty gash on his arm if I remember right. The cut was deep, so the he wrapped a tourniquet around it to stop the bleeding and headed straight home. That was the only time he never came back home with a deer." She said, remembering.

She looked up at Isabelle's pale face and rigid body, and quickly added, "He always comes home on the third evening before dinner. No need to worry yourself, Isabelle. He won't be gone long."

"Did he leave this morning?" Isabelle asked unevenly.

Eva paused and looked at her inquiringly. "Yes. He always leaves early in the morning, before the sun comes up."

Eva pressed on, "Are you starting to have feelings for Jarryd?"

"What? No, of course not, he's my--" She was going to say _captor,_ but that wasn't what he was to her anymore, not after last night. She didn't know what to call him after last night. "Friend," she finished lamely.

"Uh-huh…" Eva said with a disguised grin.

Isabelle stood there in her epiphany. What was she starting to feel for him? It was friendship, but it encompassed much more than that. The conversation they had last night, or lack thereof, was on a much more intimate level than just mere friends. Wasn't it?

_With the awkwardness of last night, I bet he just needed a breather._

_Or he thought it was a mistake._

_Well, do you remember what you said? You said, 'that probably should not have happened'! What would you think if you were him?_

_Oh shut-up. I know; it was just another one of my big blunders._

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That first day passed dreadfully slow, followed by another painfully agonizing day with nothing to do but read in a cold, empty library.

The third day passed slowly with her growing anticipation of his arrival. It was five thirty; shouldn't he have been home by now? Eva said he's always home before supper is served.

She checked in the kitchen to see how the meal was coming only to be shooed out by James saying, "You shouldn't be in here, we do not need your assistance. Just go sit down at the table and it will be right out." He looked at her face. He could tell she wasn't hungry. She looked worried.

"Come on, miss Isabelle." He said taking her hand and leading her to a seat. _She's not in her right mind. Is it just Jarryd's absence that's bothering her?_ He sat her down in the chair with a curious glance and hurried on back to the kitchen.

She couldn't stay sitting down once the minute hand hit the fifty-five mark. _It's almost six o'clock and he's not home. Where is he?_ She began pacing behind her chair. That was one of her bad habits, her father used to say she inherited it solely from her mother.

_Dad_. The thought of her dad brought her up short, long enough to lose her balance. She tripped and rammed her hip into the table, making the decorations sitting on it jingle. She regained her equilibrium and stood up only to pace again, this time a little farther away from the table.

Something had to be terribly wrong with Jarryd. He had a thing for punctuality. He was never late for dinner or breakfast. Always on time. So what could be holding him up? Another injured arm perhaps? She hated to think the worst, but there were no other reasons she could think of.

_You are falling so hard for him._

_No, I'm not! I'm just worried._

_You're worried as much as a wife would; waiting for her husband to come home._

_No… I just want him to be okay._

She heard the rumbling of thunder. _Rain?_ She jogged over the curtained windows and threw back the drapes. The sky was heavy and black with water. At first there was the sprinkling of rain outside giving a light shiny film on the concrete outside. _This isn't too bad, it could be way worse._ Suddenly as if the clouds above had heard her challenge, it began to downpour so bad that she could barely make out the nearest tree.

She turned from the window and started pacing again. _There's nothing you can do about this, Isabelle. You're just going to have to wait it out._ Reminding herself that she had no control of the weather.

The kitchen doors creaked open revealing James, Candace and Eva holding plates of food, looking nervous at Jarryd's tardiness. They placed the platters on the table, but Isabelle didn't sit down to eat. The thought of eating made her stomach do knots and summersaults. She was starting to feel sick.

"Isabelle, please eat. He should be home any minute." Eva said encouragingly.

"I'm sorry, I can't eat." She croaked as she slowed her pacing. "I already feel nauseous with worry. Excuse me." She ran from the room, covering her mouth with one hand and holding her stomach with the other.

She ran from the dining room straight to the bathroom. She wretched so violently that her spine shivered and her eyes burned with tears. She sat back with a gasp of air and limp limbs, all nutrients gone. Her mind was reeling. She couldn't keep the horrible thoughts from her mind. The images exploded, making them more real than necessary. Horrific pictures went through her head like a slide show, the next more gruesome than the last. Pale faces, vacant eyes, cold hands, bloody arms, broken legs. Everything cascaded down at once.

She mustered the energy to lean forward and stand up, bringing herself up to the sink. She ran the tap and splashed water on her face, shocking the skin that seemed to be on fire.

Despite her light-headedness, she found her way to the sitting room and slumped over into Jarryd's overstuffed chair. His scent. She could smell it. It wasn't a scent that came from cologne, or soap, but just of the man itself. A vigorous woodsy smell. Not sweat but nature. Like a mixture of pine trees and fresh breeze. She inhaled deeply, trying to get the rancid odor of her breath away. Her breath was sour, and her face felt clammy with perspiration. She knew she looked a mess but she couldn't seem to dodge the nerves.

She sat there for awhile staring blankly at the roaring fire. She saw shapes, but wasn't sure because they immediately changed. She began nodding off into fitful sleep, waking up every few minutes.

She jerked awake suddenly and looked at the clock. 12:25 Am. What had woken her to consciousness? The front gate suddenly creaked and clanged. _Jarryd._ She jumped out of the chair determination making her forget everything. She ran to the front door at full speed, throwing it open. She inhaled the mustiness of the rain and forest. She squinted her eyes, trying to make out his figure.

The rain must have let up a little, because there he was. At the gate, locking it from what it looked like. She ran toward him, forgetting the cold rain stinging her face and vulnerable arms. He was also running but not away from her. Towards her.

Nothing seemed to be wrong with him. No limp, no tourniquet tied around his arm. She stopped immediately in front of him so that she looked up into his face. And she did the exact opposite of what she was feeling, letting her anger and frustration blossom.

She hit him as hard as she could in the arm. His shock at her reaction was displayed on his wet face. "Now what was that for?" He asked in an accusing tone.

"Why are you so late? Do you know I have been up almost this entire time waiting for you? You even missed dinner! You never miss dinner! Where have you been? Eva told me you are always home before dinner on the third day. And what time is it now? It's 12:30 in the morning, Jarryd! How was I supposed to know you weren't hurt or injured without anyone to help you? You could have been out there all alone dying!" She took a deep breath, looking away from him, letting the tears flow freely down her face and mix with the rain. "Why didn't you tell me where you were going? I was so—" But her words were cut off by the sobs that wracked her body.

She was suddenly surrounded in a silent, strong embrace. She felt his hard soaked-shirt chest against her face. He was so warm compared to the brutal weather. It was the rain, though, that intensified his woodsy smell. She breathed deeply, hiccoughing. She wrapped her arms tighter around his waist. She was frozen around him. Abruptly things started to get a little hazy. _Uh oh, no nutrients; no balance. _ She hadn't eaten anything all day. Her head felt like it weighed fifty pounds and her hands were slipping.

Then, like the lightning surrounding them, he pulled her up off the ground into his strong arms and began walking up the front stairs at a fast pace, the rain dripping off his chin onto her. He went straight into the sitting room and lied her down on the sofa next to the fire.

"Isabelle, are you alright?" He said alarmed. Her head still felt somewhat full, but everything was clear now.

"I'm okay now. I didn't eat much today. But what happened? You didn't answer any of my questions! Why are you so late?" She said, the irritation seeping back into her voice.

He sighed and knelt by the side of the couch. "I'm fine. I went hunting, but apparently Eva told you that. While I was out hunting I thought a lot about what happened a couple of nights ago. So I kind of lost track of time. I know, I know, lame excuse, but it's true." He said, not making eye contact.

She became unsure. She gently moved her hand toward his, which was resting on the side of the couch. He looked up and saw the insecurity showing on her face at his reply.

"It's not a lame excuse, Jarryd. That would have probably been the only answer I wouldn't have hurt you for. I've been thinking about what happened a lot too." She said somberly.

"Did you want to talk about it?" She asked in almost a whisper.

"Nah, not right now. It's late, and no offense, but you look rough." Jarryd said, hiding a smile.

"I'm not that tired, Jarryd. I'm perfectly fine now." She answered.

"Well, if you're fine then you should probably go upstairs and put on some different clothes; yours are soaked." He countered, pointing out her wet attire.

It was then she noticed that he didn't have on a shirt or his cloak on anymore. She glanced down at her own attire which wasn't much better. It wasn't like she was wearing white or anything, but her clothes stuck to her in some of the most embarrassing places. She wasn't used to seeing men's bare chests either.

"Do you need help up?" He asked, not knowing her thoughts.

She transferred her weight to her feet and stood. "Can we still talk after I change, or are you too tired?"

"Yeah, go on up and change first. There's no point for you to get sick inside a house." He chuckled at her determination.

She smiled and left the sitting room.

_What is that girl thinking?_

He laughed to himself and went into the kitchen. He reached for the loaf of bread and looked for the other ingredients. She looked like she needed food, so he made two sandwiches; one for each of them.

He had thought a lot about what had happened the night he kissed her. Everything had felt so right at that moment; her warmth, her touch, her taste. He had told himself not to fall for her; had berated himself about caring for her, but here he was, soft putty in her beautiful hands. Out there in the forest, he had finally told himself that he didn't care if it made him weak. He liked her a lot. He wasn't sure if he was in love with her yet, but with the way he was headed he soon would be.

He was so shocked at her greeting, when he had come through the gate. Her fast words and crazed expression made him wonder if something terribly wrong had happened in his absence. It was her last sentence that brought him over the edge.

"_I was so –" _ She didn't even have to finish it for him to understand. He had heard the shakiness of her voice and briefly witnessed the tears in her eyes.

He couldn't control the actions he took next. All he knew was that he didn't want her to cry. He didn't want to hurt her. He wanted to help her; to hold her; to tell her everything was going to be alright.

He breathed a deep sigh. She was nothing like he had ever seen. She was so helpful, so caring, so joyful, so _selfless_. All the other girls he had met were as far from her in personality as the sun was from earth. Yes, Isabelle was like no one he had ever met before.

He took the two plates and brought them to the sitting room, hoping she didn't beat him back. He nudged the door open with his foot and found Isabelle waiting patiently inside, sitting on the sofa, staring at the flames in the hearth.

"I made you a sandwich. You said you hadn't eaten much and I thought this might help." He said awkwardly, handing her the plate.

"Thank you." She said simply. He watched her set the plate on her lap and start munching on its crust first then started on the insides of the sandwich.

"Do you always eat sandwiches like that?" He noticed yet another of her interesting eating habits. First it was the cereal, now it was a PB & J sandwich.

She looked up at him with a funny expression; he was surprised not to see her pink blush of embarrassment when she answered, "I only eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches like this." She said, ending the sentence with one of her signature smiles.

He gave a small chuckle and began eating his food. He loved it when she smiled at him; like he had said something right for the first time. He looked up to her face and saw the dark circles under her eyes and he noticed the small, almost imperceptible, droop to her mouth meaning that she was beyond tired. She was probably verging on exhaustion.

"Isabelle, you look pretty tired. I don't think leaving this conversation till another time would be a bad idea." He said taking another bite from his sandwich.

"No, really, Jarryd, I'm fine. I don't want to go back upstairs anyway. It's all cold and lonely up there." She went on, trying to explain herself.

"Well, I think you need some sleep, even if you don't. Here," He said, tossing her a pillow and blanket from a wicker basket by the corner of the fireplace. "If you really have a problem, crash here for the night."

"You're not leaving again, are you?" He turned his head to fully face her. Her eyes disguised the worry in her voice by long dark eyelashes. Isabelle: beauty in its true essence.

"No, I'm not going anywhere, Isabelle." He walked over to her on the couch and took her empty plate from her hands. "Just get some sleep." He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and walked out of the room.

"Jarryd," She asked in almost a whisper.

"Yeah?" He said turning back to look at her small form under a rather largely stuffed blanket.

"I'm glad you're home." she said as she turned on her side to get comfortable.

"Me too, Isabelle. Me too."

He quietly walked out of the sitting room and put the dishes in the kitchen sink only to discover her sleeping form when he returned. He took the other spare blanket and pillow from the basket in the corner and slowly found his way to his chair. As soon as he got in a comfortable position, his eyelids started drooping. He was so tired that even thoughts of Isabelle could not keep him awake this night.

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**A/N: So what do you guys think? I want critiques! What you think was good; what you think was bad. This was actually one of the first scenes I had written for this story. When I was doing the outline I liked it so much I had most of it already written.**

**Thank you, wolfprint and Akumo, for the reviews for chapter 6. I was actually somewhat disappointed with the rest of you. Only two? Seriously guys! I want to know what you think and the only way I know is if I hear from you.**

**Even though I have given you 3 updates in the span of less than week, the updates will not come as quick for the next chapter, unless you guys send me PM's or Reviews. Those make me want to write so just a little FYI. **

**Thanks again to all you silent readers, but I really want you to come out of the shadows and voice your opinions as well. **

**Until next time,**

**BittersweetHearts08**

**Reviews: wolfprint, Akumo, **

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	8. Of Locks and Mental Telepathy

**Hey all! Here is chapter 8. It is written a tad differently but expect greatness! Well, I liked it and it was a ton of fun writing! ^_^ So read on! **

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Isabelle woke up to the low burning fire place and the soft sounds of Jarryd breathing. Despite the late night they had, she felt well rested and her mind felt clear.

She looked over to his direction to see the top of his head leaning back on the arm of the chair and his legs hanging down the other side. She struggled to keep her giggles within her. He looked so cute when he slept; his features became softer and less pronounced, almost like that of a child's.

Isabelle got up from her warm, comfortable spot on the couch and tip toed as quietly as she could towards the kitchen. It was still early and she didn't think the staff would be up, but she was in the mood for a large cup of coffee.

After making a pot of coffee and filling two mugs, she carefully brought them back to the sitting room. When she walked in, Jarryd was sitting and stretching his arms as if he had just woken up.

"Good morning," She said pleasantly handing him a mug, the larger one of the two.

"Morning to you too," He said lifting his mug in a thanks.

"Did you sleep well?"

"A lot better than if I were sleeping in the leaky Green Cabin." He muttered between sips of coffee.

"Huh?" Isabelle asked in confusion.

"Oh, the Green Cabin is the place I sleep at nights when I go hunting. We call it that because during the spring and summer it's so over grown with ivy and green plants, that no one would be able to tell what it was unless they knew exactly what they were looking at." Jarryd explained more about the inside walls of the small cabin. It had one shelf that he kept a couple of canned goods and a first aid kit, a small bed a night stand that barely fit his size, and no running water.

"Talk about roughing it." Isabelle said mostly to herself.

"Eh, it's not that bad. A stream runs not too far away, so bathing isn't really an issue. Did I tell you I came back with two deer?" He asked anticipating her reaction.

"Really? That's great! Wait, I didn't see you bring them in." Isabelle said, a confused expression playing on her face.

"George lives in a small little house over towards the west end of the mansion. You probably wouldn't have seen it if you hadn't made a full loop around the grounds. Anyways, he met me out there and we hung the two deer up at his place. He will take them to town to get processed today and then come back with the meat when it's ready."

"Oh cool! That sounds like it will make for some fine dinners."

"Yeah, it should. Normally Wes plans the Meal Fest weeks before I come back with the meat. Oh yeah, I forget you don't know these things. Meal Fest is like our Thanksgiving dinner. It's just a big meal where we all eat together… it's kinda our own tradition we started since-…. uh never mind." His excitement seemed to seep out from him and replace with troubling thoughts. She saw it all over his face. The disappointment, the sorrow, the grief, and the anger.

Isabelle didn't say anything. It seemed like it would be inappropriate in some odd way, so she kept quiet.

She watched as he got up and moved toward the fireplace. He took a tool from the rack on the right side and started stoking the fire, bringing about hotter, more vibrant flames.

"What were you thinking about out there?" She asked suddenly before she knew it came out of her mouth.

His movements stopped suddenly as he paused at her question. He knew exactly what she was referring to, but he did not expect to hear the question that passed through her lips. After the initial shock, he began stoking the flames with a firmer hand. "A lot of things." he returned simply.

"For example?"

"My past, you, me, Ashlyn, my dad, this stupid town outside the forest. A lot of things, Isabelle." He answered somberly.

She hated bringing up Ashlyn, because she knew there was a story of pain there, but he seemed like he needed to talk, but didn't know it himself. "Do you want to talk about it, Jarryd?"

"What makes you think talking will help?" He asked, his voice coming off harsh.

"It may help to have a listener." She answered patiently.

"It's not pretty."

"No one's past is." Compassion came from within Isabelle like a fountain. She could see how tormented he was. How much was on his mind. How his past affected his present life. He turned from the fire and sat beside her on the couch not staring at anything in particular.

"You want to know what happened. About my scars." He said in a matter of fact tone, like he was prepping himself for the story he was about to explain.

"If that's what you want to talk about, then yes." She replied gently.

"When I was younger- about 16- Ashlyn ran away. My dad made her run away. My dad wasn't the nicest guy. Oh, sure he'd put on a face and act like the happy successful rich snob he was.

"You see he owned this huge company in New York; real successful. And he always said she would be the future of the company" he gave a short sarcastic laugh, "Yeah, right. Ashlyn just wanted to be with mom- which caused a lot of fights. And I just wanted to be alone; left out of everything pertaining to dad."

Anyways when Ashlyn was 17 and I was 16- she left. It all started when dad came home that day…

_I am upstairs in my room playing video games. I'm doing great on a Boss fight but right when I am about to handle the crushing blow that will send my adversary to oblivion, the front door slams shut so loud that it makes me jerk out the controller cord, sending my crappy Playstation into freeze mode which I can't fix unless I want to restart the console._

_I throw the controller down on the ground, and stomp towards my door. I'm upset I was winning! I look at my alarm clock lying on my bed stand. 7:21 pm. What can dad be so mad about now? It's always something._

_I open the door and peak out the room to see him march straight up to Ashlyn's door down the hall. Another fight is about to break out. I hate when my dad yells. It hurts my ears. Mom never used to yell at us, but ever since she left, dad hates us._

_His big fists slam hard against the wood of the door. Ashlyn opens it and says, "Oh, it's you." _

_She is in one of her moods. She hates dad. Well, so do I, but I at least try not to show it. She says she hates putting up with the way dad treats us, so he deserves a taste of his own medicine. I don't know if she's right or not. Her attitude gets her into trouble sometimes._

_I watch from the safety of my doorway as he marches past her into her room. Her domain. She says she hates most of all when he comes into her room. It's her spot and the only person special enough to be in her room is me. We are as close as siblings get. She's my best friend and I'm hers. People think that it's kind of weird not to have friends in your own grade, but it doesn't bother either of us. _

_Dad starts yelling. His voice is booming, like canons from those old pirate ships; it echoes in the big house. My dad is a big man; he has wide shoulders, a mean scowl, and a hard hand. Yes, he beats us. It isn't fun. He never did it when mom was around, but she left a couple of years ago, so we learn to deal with it._

_I can understand clearly what he is telling Ashlyn and it makes me mad. He tells her that she is no good if she can't make A's in her classes. He says, "You are the future of my company, and you need to act like it. You need to have grades that will give you a name. You only have a name because of me! Jarryd can't be the future of my company; he's too timid. It needs a fighter! And you need to fight for those grades! Do you understand me?!"_

_For a few seconds I hear nothing. I know Ashlyn is trying to think up some smart-alecky remark like she always does. She's good at come backs._

"_What makes you think I will be the future of your crap company?" I hear her say defiantly. I wince at her words. This will get her a beating for sure. Dad doesn't like it when someone insults his company, even if it is only us._

_I hear Ashlyn yelp in pain. I can't take hiding anymore. I run down the hall into Ashlyn's room. Her dark red furniture is a sharp contrast to my light green and brown accented room. _

_I see dad lifting his fist to hit my sister. She's hurt on the floor tears in her eyes, not from the fact the blow came from dad, but because she is angry. She cries when she is angry or really worried. She looks around her room to find something to defend herself with. I hate seeing her like this. Ashlyn isn't helpless. She's smart, and quick, and the best fencer I've ever seen. Too bad her fencing equipment is down in the basement where the sparring room is._

_When I see dad about to move closer towards Ashlyn, I let out a harsh yell and pull his hand back behind him. If I weigh more I might be able to snap his arm out of his socket, but I am not that strong._

_He quickly turns towards me snatching his arm away with a sharp hiss of pain. I may have hurt him a little, but he is strong too and won't give up easily. He punches me in the eye with his right fist. I fall back on my butt and put a hand to my face. I look up at him and I give him the most hateful glare I can muster._

_He looks at me with mean blue eyes. Eyes like mine. I hate my eyes. Every time I look in the mirror I see him. My reflection reminds me I am of him. It hurts. _

_He hates me and I hate him. I say, "Don't you dare touch my sister again!" _

"_Oh, finally finding your voice now, Jarryd?" He answers in a sarcastic tone that I hate. "I can do whatever I want. And if I want to punish your sister again, I will. Do not fight me, boy." He looks at me in disgust; I am not a strong boy. I'm tall and lanky; I don't have a lot of muscle. Mom always used to say, "It isn't the muscles that make a man, but the heart within him." I always try to remember that, but sometimes I forget._

_I see dad turn away from me toward Ashlyn across the room. She has her baseball bat I her hand. She's good with that bat too. She hits home-runs with it all the time outside. _

"_Don't come any closer, or I'll bash your head in." She says. Her tone scares me. She's strong and will do it. I don't want her to get in trouble. I know she will, if she does what she says._

_I see a look come over dad's face. It is a surprised look. He probably never notices us playing two-man baseball outside. I look quickly between both my sister and my dad. I don't know what's going to happen._

_My dad puts up his hands like he wants peace. Yeah, right. Dad only stirs up wars. _

"_Put down the bat, Ashey." He says in a calmer voice, using Ashlyn's nickname that only mom uses._

"_Over my dead body, and don't call me that." She bites back instantly. _

_It is quiet for a few moments. I don't know who is going to make the next move. I look around the room just in case I need to find something to defend myself and Ashlyn with. My eyes search and search until they land on a box a few feet away from me. It is full of Ashlyn's old fencing trophies. They are made out of metal and not plastic and they are very heavy. That is a good weapon._

_I look up at dad to see his face hasn't changed expressions much. But you can tell that he is grappling for some sort of plan. I look from him to the box and make my move. Even though I'm not strong, I am fast. I get to the box quickly and efficiently and grab the first piece of metal my hand comes in contact with._

_I bring the trophy up like Ashlyn's baseball bat. _

"_Jarryd, put that ridiculous thing down." my dad says. He always tries to make me feel dumb. I refuse to listen this time. Ashlyn is more important._

"_Leave!" I shout at him. I can't stand him. He makes me so angry. I don't ever want to see him again._

"_Fine, I'll go, but you and me are going to have a talk later about minding my authority, Jarryd. And, Ashlyn-"_

"_Shove it, dad. Get out now!" She yells. I can feel her tremble beside me. Her hand is on my back. She put it there when I shouted at him. That's how we work. Silent moral support, but we know that silence is not the absence of our support unlike other people._

_I see dad get red at what Ashlyn told him to do. I think he knows he can't win this fight, not with both of us so angry like we are. I see him turn quickly and walk away in his arrogant gate. _

"_Close the door." She whispers to me. I jog towards the door and peak out. I see dad walk down the hall away from us. I come back inside Ashlyn's room and shut the door firmly. Ashlyn put in two locks on her door and I lock both of them. Dad found where she was hiding her spare key for the first lock on the door, so she installed another one. _

_I turn from the door and face her. She is on the floor her head is buried in her arms. I don't like when she cries. She is supposed to be stronger than me, so she can give me strength. I go over to her and put both my arms around her. I want her to feel better. Dad shouldn't say all the things he does. Today he was mean but he has been meaner in the past. One time he called her a whore for talking to one of her boy classmates on the phone. She was only calling about an assignment for school._

_I feel her back shake because of her tears. It makes me sad and I let a few tears fall from my face too. I wish mom were here. She could always make both of us feel better. _

"_Everything will get better, Ashlyn. It has to." I whisper through her dark hair to where I think her ear is._

_She brings up her head and looks at me through her tears. "We have to get out of here, Jarryd." She says in despair._

"_I know. I just don't know how to do that." I say._

"_What if I leave first?" She asks._

"_What's the plan? We still need a plan, Ashlyn." I say. Ashlyn's always coming up with plans to leave. Sometimes I think she daydreams about running away from home during school. That's why her grades aren't always great._

"_Just listen." She says, wiping away the tears that are still trailing down her face. "Neither of us knows where mom went. But remember she had the friend, Clara, I think her name was. She lived about a couple of hours away from here I think. I could try and find her and ask her if she knows about mom,"_

"_What if she doesn't know where mom went? What then?" I ask. Sometimes Ashlyn's plans are dependent on a lot of variables and it bothers me._

"_Then I can ask if she can help us out and get me and you out of here or something. I haven't figured out everything, Sherlock." I look at her a little uneasy about this plan. She's a girl. A 17 year old girl out on the street alone. I don't like this idea and I tell her so._

"_Nothing's going to happen I will give you a call everyday; maybe even twice a day if you're lucky." She gives me a smile to ease my fears. I give her a weak smile back because I know she is strong, and will do it._

"_Okay, fine. Why am I not coming with you, though? That's the part I don't understand." I say, still somewhat confused about the workings of my sister's brain._

"_Who's going to cover for me, Smart One?" I think about that for a second and I see how that could be a very important part. If we both disappeared together we would be easier to spot by police. My dad knows people everywhere which could make matters ten times worse. Ashlyn's right I have to stay here and cover for her. That would give her at least a couple of days to try and find this Clara lady._

"_Do you have this lady's address and phone number?" I ask._

"_Phonebook." She says in a sing-song voice holding one up in her hand._

_We set it down in front of us and look through the book scouring the pages for a Clara Fields. There are two listed one is in the city that Ashlyn said she lives in and the other a different suburb. We pick the first one._

_I get up from my spot and go over to her blood red and jet black desk to get a piece of paper and a pen. I look back at the phonebook and copy down the street address and the phone number that's listed then hand it to her to keep._

_I get up once more and walk towards the door. _

"_Where are you going?" She asks._

"_One sec." I say and open the door quietly and head to my room._

_I walk into my room and look around for my fish bowl that I hold all my extra change in. As I rummage around the room trying to find it, my eyes wander to the frozen screen of the video game I was playing earlier. I walk over to it and turn off the console and continue my search. I find it in my closet. I get it and look over at my cluttered desk. There it is. I grab the red wrapped present off of my desk and head back to Ashlyn's room._

_I open it as quietly as possible just in case dad is close by and I lock it once I am inside. I turn to find Ashlyn stuffing clothes and a toothbrush into a well-worn backpack._

_She looks up to see what I have in my hands. "What's this?" she asks._

"_This here holds probably $15 worth of quarters that you can call me on while you are on your little adventure." I say, holding up the fish bowl of rustling coins. "And this, well, this was supposed to be for your birthday but I figured you could probably use it more now." I say tossing it to her. She catches it easily._

_Ashlyn opens the small cylindrical shaped present to reveal pepper spray that attaches to a key chain. She looks down at it. And by the way her eyes glisten I can tell it means a lot to her. She looked up at me with that look in her eyes. It makes me want to cry too because we both know that this could backfire and leave us both in worse shape than we are now._

_I look back at her trying to keep my cool. "Be safe." I say in a hoarse voice._

_She sprints towards me and gives me a huge hug. Thank goodness I put the fishbowl on the bed or I would have dropped it from the impact. Ashlyn is special. I don't want anything to happen to her, but we have to do this. We have to be strong._

"It isn't the muscles that make a man, but the heart within him."

_I can be strong for my sister because she needs me and I need her and for her I will do this. I say this to myself over and over. _

_I let her go and start going around her room getting things ready for her to leave. We don't talk about it, but we both know she is leaving tonight. It is an unsaid fact. Call it mental telepathy. But whatever it is that is how we work._

_I go over and take the fish bowl off the bed and put it in her hands. "Take out the quarters." I say. I am not normally bossy, but I don't want to get teary-eyed. This is just how it has to be and I can't change it._

_I strip her bed of the sheets on it and then I go to her bathroom where she keeps more clean sheets. I tie each sheet together like you see in the movies. It's harder than it looks. It needs to be tight enough to support a person and I want Ashlyn to be safe. I know she can't just waltz out the front door, so a window is the only other option._

_After I tie all of the sheets together, I look at it and try to think if it will reach the ground. It should. I look over to Ashlyn and I see her putting the quarters in an old tube sock and tie a knot at the end to keep them from falling out. She puts it in her backpack and then shoves it to the side as she looks under her mattress._

_I'm confused at what she's doing but then I understand as she brings out a small flat purse that was lying under the mattress. She opens it up and looks in it. She doesn't seem surprised. I know its money. She says she's been saving up for years now. I hope she doesn't have to use much._

_She takes out a good chunk of green bills and then puts the small tan purse in my hand. "You keep this in case something happens. Nothing will, but keep it anyways. Got it?"_

"_I'll keep it safe for you, for when you come back." I say because I don't agree. Nothing will happen. It can't._

"_I guess it's time for me to head out. Be safe, Jarryd." She says. You can see the anticipation in her eyes. Bright blue just like mine. Just like Dad's, but Ashlyn's are a richer color, I think. _

_I nod and say the same to her. I turn to get the sheet-rope I made and I look at each knot to make sure it is tight and secure. They are. _

_I look up to see her staring at me. "My spare key is in the linen closet under the old sheets we don't use anymore. Leave it there for now, but if you need to lock my room it's there." I nod in answer because I don't trust my voice._

_I open her window and look down to see the dark grounds of the property. It's probably 9:30pm by now. It's a fairly high drop from the window to the ground. But I know it won't be a problem. Ashlyn has been climbing trees and ropes since she learned to walk._

"_Do you have a flashlight?" I ask._

"_Yes." she answers simply._

_I nod again. I hate this. I want to go with her but I know my part is important too. Actually, it is crucial._

_I tie one end of the sheet-rope to a chair and that I put heavy school text books on it to weigh it down and let the other end of the rope gently fall over the side of the window. The chair is close to the window to allow more length to the sheet-rope. _

_I turn back to her and see that there's a flashlight in her pants pocket and a full bottle of water in a pocket on the side of her backpack. She was ready to go._

_She walks up to me and gives me one last hug goodbye. "This will work. I promise." She says. I believe her._

_I hold her tight and pray to God, if there is one out there, that He will keep my sister safe. I let go before I can start crying and step back. I go towards the chair and sit down on top of all the books piled on it. This will hold her while she is on the rope._

_I look at her and nod. I see her take a deep breath and move towards the window. I hold the rope that's tied to the chair just in case it unties, but I know it won't. _

_She's out on the windowsill looking down. She goes feet first, half her body outside the window. She gives me one last look before she shimmies down the sheet-rope. _

_I feel her movements in the rope and know she is working her way down. Then I feel two big tugs on the rope signaling she is on the ground. I tug the rope to make sure and I feel it slacken. I get up and rush to the window._

_There she is, on the ground. She looks up at me and I can tell she is not smiling. This is one of the hardest things either of us has had to do. I nod to her and she nods back. She crouches by a bush and looks around at her surroundings. I look around and I see that there isn't anyone outside. She sees that too and moves toward the fence. It's a tall 7 foot black chain-link fence; easy for Ashlyn to climb. She gets over onto the other side of the fence and drops into a crouch like Lara off of the Tomb Raider video game I used to play. _

_I watch her as she runs into the shadows of the forest, into the night. And that was the last I saw of my sister._

**To be continued…**

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**A/N: So what did you guys think? This is a different chapter than any of the others. It's written in a different perspective **_**and**_** in a different tense. Tell me what you think about it. **

**And for the people who I know are going to ask… I will pick up exactly where I left off in this chapter meaning I will start in this tense/flashback mode. There is a whole other half to the story and I'm soooo excited! ^_^**

******SONG****I thought this song went really well with this chapter for some reason. I was actually listening to this song over and over again and I thought I would share. It's called Love Dance by Cirque Du Soleil it's in the Ka album. It is a classical piece but there is major power in it. It reminds me of the ending when Jarryd sees Ashlyn for the last time. VERY GOOD! ^_^**

**Thanks goes to both FP and FF users:**

**Faves: RockSherry, madscientistproduction.01, sezzi1989, Katahdinz, Black Wolf Silver Fang, Evaladivina, **

**Alerts: SpikeMalWesley, Evaladivina**

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